Two Evils
by Agent047
Summary: Follows Lieutenant Groves, starting with the first time he meets Norrington, and focuses especially on the second and third movies. I've included scenes to sort of "fill in the gaps." This is kind of my look at Groves as a character, his reactions to the events, and his friendship with Norrington. I've taken some liberties with the plots; I wanted a happy ending.
1. First Impressions

**PART ONE**

* * *

**First Impressions**

Lieutenant Theodore Groves had barely been off the ship an hour when he found himself gathered with the other new arrivals in the Fort Charles courtyard, waiting to be welcomed by Captain James Norrington. Groves knew many of the others who had arrived with him, especially the officers. He had served with Lieutenant Ezekiel Peck at his previous station back in England, and he had often encountered the others as well. Groves was one of the few who had volunteered for transfer to the young town of Port Royal. Many of the other men were sailors who had been given the assignment when they enlisted, and most of the other lieutenants had only recently received their commissions, which gave them no choice in where they were stationed.

Lieutenant Groves had chosen the Navy because he knew that he could never be content in a job which kept him indoors and inactive. Formal education had always been a painstaking struggle for him, not because he lacked intelligence or ability, but because boredom with lectures and lessons had often prompted him to inattention, or worse, "inappropriate behavior." He had not been considered a good student by any of his teachers, but he felt he had redeemed himself by his four years of excellent service to the Navy.

Groves had volunteered for the transfer to Port Royal because he felt that after living his whole life in England, he'd seen as much of the place as was worth seeing. The pirate-infested Caribbean sounded much more intriguing than the structured confines of crowded London. So he had volunteered to go to the New World, packed up what few personal belongings he was allowed to carry with him, and bid farewell to his father and to his sister Emma. All he knew is that he would be serving at Fort Charles, and on the _HMS Dauntless__,_ under James Norrington, a man with a solid reputation and a family history of service to the Navy.

When the captain paused in front of him, Groves stepped forward to introduce himself. "Lieutenant Theodore Groves," he said.

Captain Norrington was a tall, serious man who didn't move so much as a finger without purpose and who spoke only when he had something important to say. The rest of the time he held his thoughts behind green eyes that betrayed competence and nothing else. The man was intimidating in both his stature and his demeanor, though his gaze was kind and his words spoken directly and without judgment. He studied the lieutenant for a moment, then glanced down at the orders in his hand. "You've served four years, if I'm not mistaken," the captain said.

"Yes, sir," Groves replied.

"And you volunteered for this station?"

"Yes, sir," Groves said again. "Any place would have done, really. I was starting to think I might have to join a pirate crew to get out of England, but fortunately the opportunity for transfer came along just in time."

Norrington's gaze suddenly hardened. His green eyes narrowed and scrutinized the lieutenant's face, searching him with wary disapproval.

"I'm joking, of course," Groves said quickly.

"I certainly hope so, Lieutenant," the captain replied. "Though I'm sure you'll learn soon, if you haven't already, that piracy is no laughing matter."

"Of course, sir." Groves dropped his eyes, uncomfortable under the captain's stare. "I'm sorry. I was out of line."

Norrington lingered silently a moment longer, then carefully folded the paper and slid it into his coat pocket. When Groves glanced up, the captain had walked away and was speaking to another lieutenant. Groves remained where he was, but glanced up at the sky, irritated with himself. Sooner or later he was going to get himself into trouble, if he didn't learn to think before speaking. He wondered what he could possibly write home to his sister. Of course he couldn't say he'd made a wisecrack which earned him the eternal and unwavering disdain of his new captain, but he couldn't lie to Emma, either. He'd have to write to her sooner or later. _Met the captain and made an unforgettable impression._ But Emma knew him too well. She'd know exactly what he meant by that.

Norrington went to meet the other new arrivals, and the other lieutenant, Gillette, made his way towards Groves. Gillette looked delightfully amused.

"He hates me, doesn't he?" Groves said.

"That's an awfully strong word," Gillette replied. "I don't know that Captain Norrington really hates anyone." He paused, letting an amused smirk stretch across his face. "Besides pirates, of course."

"Great."

"If I were you, I'd be on my best behavior," Gillette advised. "And I wouldn't talk so much, especially to the captain. Not until he's warmed up to you a bit."

"Any idea how long that might take?"

Gillette shrugged, and glanced across the fort courtyard, along the road that led out into the town. "Walk with me, Lieutenant."

Gillette was obviously enjoying himself, but Groves had resolved to start his efforts at penance immediately, so he obediently followed the other lieutenant.

"Captain Norrington's a man you can trust," Gillette said. "And he'll trust you, too, until you give him a reason not to."

"Which I have."

"No, you haven't. You made light of the subject he takes most seriously, but that's no reason for him not to trust you."

"I see you've got him all figured out."

"There's nothing to figure out," Gillette said. "Just do what you're supposed to do, and don't be surprised if he's not particularly friendly even if he likes you."

"And if he doesn't like me?"

Gillette shrugged. "I don't see that it would make much difference to him whether he likes you or not, so long as you do your job and stay out of trouble. Just don't expect to be invited to his house for drinks."

"I suppose you have."

Gillette's smirk was back. "I've been here three years, and I would say the captain and I are friends." He glanced over at Groves. "But don't despair. These things take time, especially with him."

The two men paused as a carriage rolled leisurely past, heading towards the center of the fort. A young lady sat in the carriage next to a middle-aged man. Groves could tell they were upper-class citizens by the delicate curls pinned on top of the woman's head and her fashionable dress, and by the man's ornate coat and thick curly wig. The woman met Groves' eyes and she frowned slightly, then turned to the man next to her. The carriage passed, and Groves turned slightly to watch it go.

"That's Governor Weatherby Swann," Gillette said.

"She's very pretty," Groves commented, still watching the carriage and thinking of the woman inside.

Gillette frowned. "The Governor?"

Groves faced Gillette again. "Governor?"

"That's Weatherby Swann," Gillette repeated. "Governor of Port Royal. And his daughter, Elizabeth."

"Oh." Groves glanced back towards the carriage again, which had disappeared around a corner of the fort wall.

"Don't even think about it," Gillette said. "She is, admittedly, quite lovely, but you're no match for her."

Groves raised his eyebrows, amused at the thought. "You don't think the Governor would want an unknown lieutenant marrying his daughter?"

"Well, no, I don't, but that's not quite what I meant." Gillette started walking again before Groves could respond. "You'll likely meet the Governor tomorrow. He'll want to greet all the new arrivals, especially the officers."

They walked in silence for a few more paces until they came to a carriage waiting at the fort's entrance. It was smaller and plainer in comparison to the one that had carried Governor Swann and his daughter. "This will take you home," Gillette said, nodding towards the carriage. "Nothing fancy, just a plain little house, but I'm sure you'll find it more than sufficient. Get yourself settled in, and report back here tomorrow morning so the captain can put you to good use."


	2. Fire and Water

**Fire and Water**

"Something on your mind, Lieutenant?"

Groves tried not to wince at the captain's pointed question. For almost two months, he had done his best to be gracious and submissive, to do excellent work, and to avoid Captain Norrington's attention. He had been reasonably successful, too. The captain made no mention of or allusion to Groves' unfortunate first impression, and treated him with the same cool respect he gave all the other officers. Groves had managed to hold his tongue in the captain's presence, and to keep any unnecessary remarks to himself. But he was finding it exceedingly difficult to watch a helpless ship burn while Norrington ordered the crew of the _Dauntless_ to do nothing.

"Yes, actually," Groves said, answering the question as directly as it had been asked. The _Dauntless_ had been drawn to a cloud of smoke that interrupted the clear sky, and found a ship disabled and on fire. The other ship was flying English colors, and likely a merchant or passenger vessel, though it was impossible to tell since it was engulfed in flames and smoke and already badly burned. Norrington had ordered the _Dauntless_ to keep its distance and wait for the blaze to die down before searching for survivors. "I'm thinking about all the poor souls on that ship."

"Are you implying that I'm not?" Norrington asked.

"I'm not implying anything, sir," Groves said, his voice tense. "It just seems backwards to me that we should sail out here to keep danger from reaching innocent people, yet do nothing when we come across those who have already been reached by disaster."

"It would do no good to give our lives and save no one."

"Isn't that what we risk every day?"

"Lieutenant," the captain said sternly, "that ship is a burning death trap. I cannot, in good conscience, send my men in there to die."

"But your conscience will allow you to leave innocent people to burn to death?"

As soon as he had spoken, Groves wished he could take back the impulsive accusation. He was about to apologize, insist that he hadn't been thinking and that of course he knew the captain was a compassionate man, and pray that he wasn't punished for speaking so brazenly, but Norrington's eyes softened unexpectedly.

The captain's gaze dropped to the deck. "No," he said. "It won't."

Groves frowned slightly, suddenly feeling his anger slip away. He had expected a sharp rebuke and perhaps even some sort of punishment for speaking so brazenly, but it appeared as though neither was coming.

"Is one life greater than another?" Norrington asked, looking up at the burning ship. "Their fates have already been decided," he said. "Those who are to die will die no matter how many of us give our lives to save them. The survivors will be rescued as soon as it is safe for us to approach."

Groves still had no response. He looked down at the water that separated the _Dauntless _from the other ship and let the captain's words spill through his mind. He still hated the decision to do nothing, but he found that Norrington's surprisingly honest response had suppressed the urge to fight.

"There lies the burden of command," Norrington said, still watching the flames.

"I'm sorry, sir," Groves said, facing him. "I spoke out of turn. I shouldn't have questioned - "

"It is our duty question anything that disturbs us," Norrington interrupted. "Without honor, we're no better than the foulest pirate."

Groves nodded silently. "Yes, sir."

Norrington turned to walk away, but paused after a few paces and turned back. "I'm glad to see you're still the man I met the day you arrived in Port Royal."

Groves frowned. "Sir?"

"I was beginning to worry Gillette had poured water over your fiery mind."


	3. Messages

**Messages**

Groves opened the envelope as soon as it was in his hands. A letter from Emma had arrived on one of the ships coming into the port, and he was eager to hear the latest news from home. The letter wasn't long, so he paused on the dock to scan the few lines of his sister's writing.

It wasn't good news. Groves felt his heart stop when he read, _Father died yesterday. _He stared at the words and knew they were true, but felt none of the desperate grief he would have expected such news to bring. He felt like a block of stone, unable to move or think or breathe, trapped in one moment, reading and rereading the words again and again until they sounded like nonsense._  
_

Groves forced himself to breathe, then read the rest of Emma's letter. It had been a sudden illness that claimed their father. His health had been failing for some time, and Groves knew that, but he hadn't expected the man to succumb so quickly. Preparations for the burial were underway, Emma said, and after the funeral she announced that she would sell their father's assets and make her way to the Caribbean to join her brother. There was little left for her in England. She would arrive on the next ship.

"Lieutenant."

Groves looked up. The captain was frowning at him.

"Is everything all right?" Norrington asked.

"Fine," Groves said. He stuffed the letter and its envelope into his coat pocket. "I was just reading a letter from my sister."

Norrington was obviously not convinced. "You would let me know if there was anything I should be aware of."

"Of course."

The captain nodded, still frowning slightly, but then he gave up on his questions. "The cargo will be unloaded soon," he said, nodding towards the ship that had just come in. "I've asked her captain for an inventory. Requisitions will be taken to the fort, and you can handle them there."

"Yes, sir," Groves replied, then quickly walked away, anxious to be away from the captain's scrutiny. He went to the fort as he had been instructed, but didn't join the rest of the men. He stopped in an empty passageway, hidden from view by corners and walls and shadows, and read Emma's letter again. He leaned back against the stone arch and stared at the opposite wall, trying to think through the sudden news, but unable to concentrate long enough on any one thought to make sense of it. His father was dead, and to be buried within the week. The house and estate was to be sold. Emma was coming to the Caribbean, across the ocean, on a ship, alone.

After a few moments, Groves composed himself, forcing the thoughts to quiet themselves so he could make it through the day. The initial shock had passed, but he still felt the weight of bad news as a dull, sick feeling in his stomach. He went through the motions of carrying out his duties, his actions competent but subdued.

"You seem tired," Gillette commented, at some point during the afternoon. "Are you feeling all right?"

Groves tried to smile and give a convincing lie. "I just have a headache," he said. "I'm fine."

Gillette seemed satisfied, and had no more questions after that.

When the day was finally over, Groves and the other lieutenants gave Norrington their reports of what progress had been made, and what was still left to be done. Groves was anxious to leave, and he quickly headed for the door as soon as they were dismissed.

"Mr. Groves," the captain said, calling him back. "A moment please."

Groves reluctantly went back into Norrington's office.

"You haven't been yourself today," the captain said.

"Oh." Groves down at the floor. He couldn't think of anything to say in his own defense, because he knew it was true. He knew the captain wasn't the only one who had noticed, but except for Gillette, the others had refrained from commenting.

"I just wanted to express my concern."

"It's a personal matter," Groves said stiffly. "It won't affect my duties."

"That's not why I'm concerned. I can see that you're upset. Is everything all right at home?"

Groves hesitated. He could feel the letter from his sister still sitting in his coat pocket, crinkling against his body, reminding him why he'd felt like throwing up all day. He didn't want to talk about his father, not yet, and certainly not with the captain. Surely Norrington didn't want to listen to such an unhappy detail of the lieutenant's personal life. The captain was a practical man, focused on actions and results, and didn't show much personal interest in the lives of the men who served under him. Even Gillette, who was clearly the captain's favorite, was kept at a distance. Groves hated to burden the captain with his personal concerns, and he hated to think that if he did, Norrington might feel obligated to feign sympathy through a series of prying questions.

Norrington was watching him with a slight frown, waiting for an answer. Groves knew he had to give one, and he knew he couldn't lie this time. He sighed, letting his shoulders sag and his guard drop. "My father's dead," he admitted. "My sister wrote to tell me."

"I'm sorry," Norrington said. His eyes were pained with genuine sympathy. "I am truly sorry for your loss."

Groves was surprised by how sincere the captain sounded. "Thank you, sir."

"I'll understand if you want to take a few days for yourself."

Groves shook his head. "I'd rather be around people," he said. "I need to keep busy."

The captain nodded. He understood. He knew there was nothing more that could be said, not without making the situation more difficult than it already was. Norrington simply gazed down at his desk for a long moment, then stood up and reached for his coat and hat.

"Will that be all, sir?" Groves asked. The brief conversation had been uncomfortable, and Groves felt physically tired after such a long day. He just wanted to go home.

"That's all, Theodore," the captain replied. "Unless you'd like to join me for a drink."

Groves was surprised by the invitation, and by the captain's use of his first name. "A drink, sir?" he repeated. "With you?"

"You look like you need it."

Groves managed a small smile. "You have no idea," he said. "Thank you." He hesitated, then added, "Does this mean we're friends now?"

Norrington set his hat on his head and gave Groves an amused frown. "I thought we already were."


	4. Emma's Arrival

**Emma's Arrival**

Emma arrived in Port Royal a month later. Groves met her at the dock and hugged her, glad to see her again after so many months, and relieved that she had made it safely across the ocean. He picked up her small trunk under one arm, and offered his sister the other, since her feet wary of the land after the weeks at sea.

"We'll have to walk home," Groves said apologetically. "I don't have a carriage."

"I don't think I could take you seriously if you did," Emma replied.

Groves smiled, happy to know that nothing had changed between them. "You don't take me seriously anyway."

When they arrived at the house, Groves invited Emma to sit down and relax after her long trip, while he took her trunk to the bedroom that was to be hers. Emma dropped onto the small sofa and remarked that it was heavenly to sit on a real piece of furniture again. Groves hardly thought the tiny sofa could be called "real furniture," but he just went into the kitchen to make a pot of tea.

"I didn't know you could make tea," Emma commented, when he brought two steaming teacups out.

"I'm not completely useless," he replied, sitting down in an armchair. "I take most of my meals at the fort, but I've taught myself to cook a thing or two."

"I'm impressed."

"You should be," Groves said. "It wasn't easy. I think I nearly poisoned myself once or twice."

They sat together, letting the tea cool until it was drinkable, and talked of Emma's voyage. Groves enjoyed listening to his sister talk about the routines that were most familiar to him as if they were the most fascinating things in the world. He was also glad to hear that the voyage had been uneventful, without any surprises or mishaps.

"It actually got boring," Emma said. "The other women were either too seasick to be good company, or they insisted on staying below and out of the sun."

Groves frowned slightly. "You didn't go wandering around on the deck by yourself, did you?"

"Oh, yes, and at all hours of the night." Emma rolled her eyes. "Of course not. Do you remember Gregory Wallace, from back home?"

Groves nodded.

"Well, as it turns out, he was making the cross too. He's coming here to work at the printer's. He thought he'd do better in the printing business in some place that wasn't so crowded as London," Emma explained. "And, he was kind enough to be my escort. Without a chaperone, of course, but all the other women were too busy being sick or complaining to gossip about me. And besides, I figured Gregory is practically family, since we grew up together."

Groves only shrugged. He didn't really care what gossips had to say about anything, and he wasn't particularly concerned with propriety, either, as long as his sister was safe. "I'll have to thank him for looking after you."

They avoided the subject of their father until after the tea was finished, but when the teacups had been taken back to the kitchen and the sunset brought a heavy silence to the room, the sad reality couldn't be avoided any longer. Groves broached the subject first, asking if all was settled with their father's estate. He was glad to hear that the will had been straightforward enough, leaving the property, possessions, and money in the care of Theodore and Emma. Mr. Wallace, Gregory's father, had helped Emma find an attorney who had taken care of all the legal work for a reasonable fee, and all the assets had been converted into cash and bonds, which were hidden in the bottom of Emma's trunk.

Then Emma spoke of their father's final days, of the funeral, and all the kind people who had come to mourn with her. Emma had stayed with the Wallaces throughout the entire ordeal so she wouldn't have to be alone in their father's empty house. Groves was glad to hear that Emma hadn't been alone during it all.

"I'm so sorry you had to find out in a letter," Emma said. "But I thought you'd want to know."

Groves nodded, agreeing that he appreciated hearing even bad news. "There were some rough days," he admitted, "but I never had to drink alone."

"Oh!" Emma exclaimed, suddenly brightening. "So you have made some friends after all!"

"Yes," he agred. "Even the captain doesn't mind having me around."

"You must have done something remarkable, then, to win him over."

Groves frowned and thought for a moment. "No," he said. "Not really. I think he just needed time to warm up to me."

"I'd like to meet them all," Emma said. "All your navy friends."

Groves smiled. "And they're anxious to meet you. Unfortunately..." He hesitated, hating that he had come to this point in the conversation already. The _Dauntless_ was scheduled to sail the next morning, and he would be on it. He sighed. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning," he said. "The _Dauntless_ sails at dawn, and we'll be gone at least two weeks."

Emma's smile faded, though she tried to mask her disappointment. "Oh," she said.

"Lousy timing, I know."

"It's all right. I understand."

"Lieutenant Gillette's offered to let you stay at his house while we're away. He has a housekeeper there, so you wouldn't be alone. It wouldn't be very exciting, but it would at least give you a chance to see a bit of the town and get used to living here."

Emma smiled for her brother and nodded. "That sounds like a good arrangement."

"I'm really sorry. It's hardly the perfect welcome."

Emma shrugged. "I suppose I'll have to get used to you being away," she said. "But perhaps your friend's cook can show me around a bit, and I'm sure Gregory would like to see the town as well. And," she added, "I'm sure a few cooking lessons wouldn't hurt."

Groves raised his eyebrows.

"Well, that is why you're letting me live here, isn't it? To be your cook?"

"No, actually, but now that you mention it..."

"You're abominable," Emma teased, but then her face grew serious again and she spoke quietly. "Be careful, Theodore."

He frowned. "Careful?"

"On your trip. I don't know what all you navy men do, but I know it's dangerous."

He hesitated. "It can be."

"So be careful out there," Emma said. "I won't mind if you leave sometimes, as long as you always come back."


	5. Through Storms

**Through Storms**

When the storm was over and the sun started to rise, Groves sank to the deck, grateful that it was still there to hold him. After the roaring wind and rain, and crewmen shouting and running all over the ship, the silent sunrise was blissful. He lay down on his back with his hat on his chest and his arm thrown over his eyes to block out the sunlight. The wood planks beneath him were wet, soaked with rain and seawater, but he was too tired to care.

The deck vibrated with dull thuds, carried to the lieutenant's ears from all over the ship. The sounds of casual footfalls represented a return to normal activity. Groves listened to the familiar sounds of the ship and the water and the sailors, soaking them in just as his damp uniform soaked up water from the deck, breathing deeply with relief that the ship had survived.

"Lieutenant?" said Captain Norrington's voice, directly overhead.

Groves opened his eyes and squinted against the sun that haloed the captain's form.

"Are you injured?"

"No, I'm all right," Groves said. "Just exhausted." He pushed himself up on his elbows, grimacing with the effort.

Norrington took the lieutenant's arm and pulled him upright. Groves held onto the captain's shoulder, grateful for the help, and surprised that Norrington still possessed enough strength for both of them after the long night. Groves sat down on a nearby staircase and looked out over the deck. The sun had risen, and already its heat was lifting water from the ship, creating a thin, steamy haze. The day was already warm and humid, and Groves wiped a damp film of sweat from his face.

Norrington watched him, frowning slightly with mild concern.

"I'm all right," Groves said again. "I'm still trying to catch my breath."

The captain nodded. "I've only seen a few storms worse than that one."

"Was there much damage?"

"Nothing crippling." Norrington removed his hat and sat down next to Groves on the stairs. The captain's face bore the strain of exhaustion, but his eyes were content, even proud, as they looked out over the ship. Norrington admired his ship with the satisfied weariness that came from seeing the fruits of hard labor. "Were you at the helm all night, Lieutenant?"

"Not all night," Groves answered. It had been just before midnight when he sent the helmsman to help bail water out of a leak in one of the cabins. Groves stood at the helm after that, fighting against the wind, straining to hear shouted instructions from Gillette or word that a lighthouse had been spotted. "I hope I didn't offend the helmsman."

"It only matters that we've made it through," Norrington said.

Groves nodded and rested his head in his hands. His back ached. His shoulders felt stretched and bruised from straining at the wheel, and he was sure the pain would be worse later. It was an effort to stay awake and upright.

This wasn't the first time Groves had worked through the night, and it wasn't the first time he'd fought through a storm at sea. But it was the first time he had spent every bit of strength in his body and kept fighting anyway, not for his own life or for duty's sake, but for the sake of his companions. Standing at the helm, nearly crushed under the weight of a downpour, he had suddenly realized he would hold himself and not the storm responsible if anything happened to either the ship or to one of the men.

"Captain," a voice said, and Groves looked up to see Gillette's haggard face. "The water's all cleared out of that cabin," Gillette continued. "And the torn sail is being mended as we speak. I sent all the men who weren't needed to get some rest."

"Any word on breakfast?" Norrington asked.

"I think the cook should have something ready soon."

Norrington nodded and stood up, gathering energy from the welcome news of good progress. He replaced his hat and adjusted his coat, as if his uniform's order also lent him some strength. "Thank you," he told Gillette. "As soon as you can be spared, you ought to get some rest yourself." He looked over at Groves. "And you as well."

"I'd better eat something first," Groves said. He pushed himself up off the stairs and joined the other two officers. "If either of you are going to breakfast, I'll come along."

The three men went to the galley together and ate the simple breakfast the cook had put together. Groves felt better after he had eaten, and he thought the others did too. Norrington seemed in a particularly good mood.

"The mornings after a storm are always the most pleasant, don't you think?" the Captain asked.

Groves sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. "I don't know, James," he sighed. "I'm just glad the storm's over."

"Once or twice I thought we were lost," Gillette said. "I was beginning to think we'd be battling that wind forever."

"She put up quite a fight," Norrington agreed. "A worthy adversary."

"Worthy adversary?" Gillette repeated, raising his eyebrows. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you enjoyed the whole thing."

A smile crept onto Norrington's face, and though he glanced down at the table as if to hide the smile, he made no attempt to stop it.

Groves looked at the captain in disbelief. "Weren't you concerned at all?"

"Of course I was concerned," Norrington said, indignantly. "I know the dangers of storms at sea. I know many a good ship and crew have been lost to bad weather."

"Then what are you smiling about?"

Norrington sighed. "The challenge, Lieutenant. The opportunity to prove myself worthy of the sea's respect. Any man can sail on tranquil waters, but it takes skill and fortitude to face what we faced last night and come through it as unscathed as we have."

Gillette shook his head. "You're mad."

"No, madness would be sailing into a storm I couldn't beat," Norrington argued. "But I knew this ship and this crew well enough to know we'd make it through."

Groves rested his head on one hand. "You're pleased with yourself for being right," he said. "And for winning."

The satisfied smile crept back onto the captain's face. "There's no shame in taking a bit of pride in one's work."

"Whatever you say," Groves muttered. He sighed and stood up, rubbing his eyes. "I'm going to my cabin before I fall asleep at this table, but feel free to wake me should you decide you've grown bored of storms and would like to try your hand at slaying the kraken."


	6. Fascination

**Fascination**

"Is your sister ever going to get here?" Gillette asked, sounding only mildly irritable. "I'm starving."

Emma and Gregory were due to join a few of the officers and the Governor and Elizabeth for an informal lunch at the fort. A table was set up outside in the shade of one of the fort's archways, lightly decorated with a simple tablecloth and set with plates of sandwiches, slices of fresh fruit, and wine. Emma wasn't exactly late, but there had been a noticeable interval since the Governor and Elizabeth arrived.

Groves sighed and threw Gillette a look. "I'm sure they're on their way."

"Should we send a carriage?" Norrington suggested.

"No," Groves said. "Emma doesn't think much of carriages. She thinks they're pretentious."

Norrington raised his eyebrows, amused, and suddenly Groves thought of the Governor's carriage. Governor Swann and his daughter had arrived in their fancy carriage with their driver.

Groves threw a look at the Governor. "For common people," he added quickly. "I didn't mean to suggest... That is, my sister just wouldn't want to appear - "

"It's all right," Elizabeth said, smiling slightly. "It is a bit silly sometimes, riding around in that thing when we're perfectly capable of walking."

The Governor frowned at his daughter. "You haven't been wandering around on foot by yourself, have you?"

"Of course not." She hesitated, then added, "Not alone."

"I thought so!"

"Father, please, don't."

"You'll ruin your complexion. Not to mention it's hardly proper - "

"Father," Elizabeth scolded, giving her father a sharp look.

"I'm sorry," Groves said, feeling embarrassed that he had brought up a sore subject. "I didn't mean to - "

"Good afternoon, Miss Groves," Norrington said, standing. "And Mr. Wallace."

Groves turned, and was very relieved to see his sister standing at Gregory's arm, smiling and returning the Captain's greeting. Emma glanced around the table, and her gaze lingered on Elizabeth. Elizabeth smiled politely, and Emma returned the smile, but then looked away quickly and glanced down at herself. Elizabeth was dressed like the proper Governor's daughter in a light blue dress with an embroidered bodice and lace trimmings, a wide hat which kept the sun off her pale face, and her neatly curled and pinned at the back of her head. Emma's face fell slightly as she saw that her own dress, the finest she owned, was remarkably plain compared to Elizabeth's finery.

Groves stood up to greet his sister. "You look lovely," he told her, then took her hand to guide her to her seat. "But you didn't need to spend all that time getting dressed up just for us."

"That was my fault," Gregory said, taking a seat next to Emma.

"Your fault?" Groves repeated. "You don't look as if you spent any time at all getting dressed."

"I hope you weren't waiting for us," Emma said. She glanced around the table and saw that the meal had not, in fact, begun yet. "We didn't mean to keep you waiting."

"It's no trouble at all!" the Governor said. "We're just glad you could join us."

"But you'd better go ahead and start eating," Groves added. "Gillette's been very patient, but if he has to wait much longer, I'm afraid he won't leave anything for the rest of us."

Gillette made a face.

Emma looked over at the lieutenant and smiled slightly. "And to think, my brother doesn't believe you'll ever find a woman." She picked up a sandwich and placed it on the plate in front of her. "With manners like that, it's a wonder you haven't got every woman in Port Royal lined up outside the fort to compete for your attention."

Gillette's mouth dropped open slightly and he stared at Emma, frowning in surprise. Gregory and the Governor didn't seem to know how to react, but Norrington bit his lip and ducked his head, trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile. He exchanged an amused glance with Elizabeth. All the while, Emma just calmly served herself some fruit and took a small bite of her sandwich, as if oblivious to the mild chaos she had caused. Groves looked across the table at Gillette and had to force himself not to laugh.

Norrington finally had himself under control and addressed Gillette. "Oh, come now, Lieutenant. It's all in good fun. Have a sandwich."

"They're quite good," Emma said.

"Don't provoke him," Groves told her, but he threw amused glance at Gillette. Gillette pouted, but took a sandwich for himself.

Governor Swann finally couldn't stand the awkward snickering any more, so he authoritatively changed the subject. "Mr. Wallace," he said. "I understand you're working for the printer."

"Yes, sir, that's right," Gregory replied. "Actually that's why we were delayed. Our typesetter managed to burn his hand on a cooking pot last night, so we've been a bit behind today."

"Such an interesting business."

"I believe it's important that we maintain a society of informed people."

"Yes, of course."

"Any interesting news?" Elizabeth asked. "I heard rumors of pirates nearby. I don't suppose you know if they're true?"

The Governor looked at his daughter and frowned. "Elizabeth, I hardly think - "

"Actually..." Gregory said, cautiously, "there was a pirate who caused quite a fuss in Nassau recently. Turned the place upside down. A day later the same pirate is said to have looted an office of the East India Trading Company, then disappeared right from under the noses of seven Company agents. Vanished, like he was never there."_  
_

"Seven?" Elizabeth repeated, her eyes wide with wonder. "But how?"

Gregory shook his head. "Nobody knows." He paused, then leaned forward slightly. "But," he said, adding just a bit of melodrama to his story, "the reports say he did it all without firing a single shot."

Gillette frowned. "That's not possible."

The Governor laughed nervously. "No, of course it's not," he said. "See, Elizabeth? Mostly exaggeration, all these stories."

"They are not!" Elizabeth argued.

Norrington was also frowning. "When did this happen?" he asked.

"About a month ago, sir," Gregory replied. "If I remember correctly. Jack Sparrow was his name."

Norrington nodded slowly, still frowning.

"But I've heard nothing since," Gregory insisted, suddenly wishing he hadn't brought it up. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

"I'll be the judge of that," Norrington said.

The rest of the meal continued without incident. All topics of propriety, carriages, and pirates were carefully avoided, and instead they talked of things like the weather, the typesetter's burned hand, and Norrington's eagerness to command the newest and fastest ship in the fleet, the _Interceptor. _When it was all over, the Governor and Elizabeth bid a polite farewell and climbed into their carriage, and Groves left to join Gregory in walking Emma home. It wasn't too far, and the warm air and sea breeze made it a pleasant walk.

"That Jack Sparrow character," Emma commented, when they were about halfway home. "I've heard of him before."

"So have I," Groves replied. "He's something of a mystery. Appeared out of nowhere about thirteen years ago, and no one can seem to catch him."

"Is he very terrible?" Emma asked. "I mean, does he kill a lot of people and plunder their houses? Does he sink many ships?"

"I don't know that I've ever heard of anyone being killed by him," Groves said. "Though that doesn't mean it hasn't happened. He is a pirate, after all. And as for the ships..." Groves paused and frowned slightly. "Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever heard or read anything about his ship. It's never mentioned."

"That's odd."

Groves shrugged. "He's certainly elusive, for sure. Somewhat of an enigma, as far as famous pirates go. And you heard what Gregory said. Escaped from seven Company agents. Sacked Nassau, all without firing a shot."

"Allegedly," Gregory said.

Groves waved him off. "Of course, but it's that sort of story that makes him so..." He hesitated, searching for the right word. "Fascinating. And that no one's ever caught him just makes the rest of us want to catch him all the more. Doesn't matter what he's done or not done. I'd just like to see him do it."

Emma smiled slightly, amused. "You'd better not let Norrington hear you say that."

"Oh, he knows," Groves said dismissively. "And I'm sure he'd like to get his hands on Jack Sparrow, same as everyone else."

They reached the little house and Emma went inside. Groves started back towards the fort, and thought it a bit odd when Gregory followed him. He waited for Gregory to speak, assuming he had something to say, but by the time they had reached the fort, no words had been spoken.

Groves stopped outside the fort and just looked at it. "You're awfully quiet for a man who's got something he wants to say," Groves commented.

Gregory sighed. "You noticed."

Groves glanced over at him. "Well I know you're not walking all this way because you're not needed at the printer's."

Gregory smiled slightly. "You're right," he said. "There actually is something I wanted to say to you. Or, rather, discuss with you."

Groves raised an eyebrow and faced the other man. "Go on."

"Well, as you know, your sister, Emma, and I... Well, we've been friends since childhood, and we made the cross together, in a way, and... I'm trying to say that I'm - that is, your sister and I - we're quite fond of each other, and..." Gregory paused, glancing only briefly at the lieutenant's face before looking away, letting his gaze concentrate on the fort wall instead. "I couldn't offer her much, sir. Just my love and the promise that though we won't be rich, we certainly won't starve." Gregory stopped again, and looked to Groves.

"Go on," Groves said, having no intention of letting the man get off without coming out and saying what he wanted to say.

"I would like to marry your sister, sir," Gregory said, letting the words rush out. "And since your father is no longer living, I've come to you to ask your permission."

Groves waited a moment, then smiled. "You have my permission, and whatever blessing a brother can give."

Gregory's face lit up in a smile of relief. "Thank you, sir," he said. "Thank you. I know I don't have much, but I'll work hard, and like I said, I won't let her starve. As soon as I've got the money to afford a place to live, I'll - "

"You'll live with me," Groves interrupted.

"No, I couldn't ask you to do that. You've been gracious enough already."

"I'm not being gracious," Groves argued. "I'm being selfish. I don't think I could stand living alone in that house again, not after I've had Emma with me for a while. And it doesn't make any sense for my sister and her husband to live in their own house when I've got a perfectly good one with an extra room."

Still, Gregory hesitated. He was used to working hard and earning his own way, and though he and the lieutenant liked each other, Gregory was reluctant to accept the generous offer.

"Think about it," Groves conceded. "Talk it over with Emma. You'd be doing me a favor by living with me."

"I will," Gregory said. "And again, thank you." He paused, then let a nervous laugh escape. "My God, I'm going to be married!"

Groves smiled slightly, and couldn't resist teasing Gregory one more time. "If she'll have you."


	7. The Wedding

**The Wedding**

Groves forced his eyes open. A bright light sent pain through his head, and he closed his eyes again with a groan. For a moment he didn't move, feeling a rough coil of rope against his face and the hard wood of a ship's deck underneath his body. He felt disoriented, and wondered why he was lying on the deck of a ship in the middle of the morning with a splitting headache. He fought against the pain and opened his eyes again, this time keeping them open long enough to let his vision clear. Gillette was sitting against the side of a nearby staircase, grimacing and covering his eyes.

Then Groves remembered. The wedding.

"Oh God," he groaned, looking over at Gillette. "We didn't."

Gillette moved his hand slightly and cracked an eye open. "We did," he said. "I don't remember much, but I feel like puking."

Groves sat up against the side of the ship and rubbed his temples. Last night, he, Gillette, and Norrington had watched Emma and Gregory pledge their love to each other and be married. Then the festivities had begun, with plenty of music and dancing and drinking. And when the music and dancing stopped and most of the party guests left, the drinking continued, and the three officers, hating to give up each other's jovial company so soon, were prompted to give grand accounts of their impressive adventures.

Gillette told the story of his first day as a lieutenant, serving on a ship he'd never heard of under a man he'd never met, when he had saved the lives of everyone on board from a fierce storm that had injured the captain and threatened to sink the ship. Groves said he'd received two commendations before he'd even received his commission, and when he left England for Port Royal, fourteen women had lined up at the docks to bid him a tearful farewell. Norrington claimed he had once been caught by surprise by an entire pirate crew when he was on leave, away from his ship and anyone who might assist him, and had managed to arrest all the pirates using no weapon but an empty pistol. Then Gillette climbed up on his chair, called Groves and Norrington both liars for embellishing their tales, then finished off the bottle of brandy they had been sharing and declared that he was going to prove himself once and for all. He was going to climb the battlements, he said, and anyone who didn't believe him was invited to watch.

So of course Norrington and Groves had followed their friend and comrade to the fort's wall, intending to watch Gillette make a fool of himself, which was exactly what happened. Gillette tried to climb up the large stones, but found no good footholds and ended up jumping at the wall and then falling down on his back. The other two laughed uncontrollably, until Norrington began to look concerned and leaned over Gillette to ask, "Lieutenant, are you drunk?" which only made Groves laugh even harder.

Gillette replied, "No, but you are."

Norrington straightened up, suddenly pale, as if he'd just realized Gillette was right. He staggered to the wall and leaned against it while everything he'd drank came rushing back up. Then he told the two lieutenants, "I'll be in my office," and started off, holding onto the wall for balance as he went.

Groves didn't remember many specifics after that, besides he and Gillette leaning on each other and shaking with laughter at Norrington's statement, which seemed hilariously incongruous with his drunken state. Groves remembered singing, and the words to every sailing song he'd ever heard were jumbled together in his mind. He hoped they hadn't come out that way, though he had a terrible feeling they had. He didn't remember ending up on the _Dauntless, _either, but here they were, he and Gillette, passed out on the deck of the navy's flagship.

Gillette was on his feet now, throwing up over the side of the ship. Groves used the ship's railing to drag himself to his feet, and noticed that his coat and hat were missing. He glanced around the deck but didn't see them. Suddenly concerned, he checked to make sure his weapons were still at his side, and was relieved to find that they were.

Gillette looked over at Groves. "You look awful," Gillette said.

"So do you."

"We should have been at the fort hours ago."

"Well, you should have," Groves said. "I suppose I've got an excuse, seeing as my sister was just married last night."

"How is that an excuse?"

"I don't know." Groves leaned on the railing and rested his head in his hands. "Ask me again when my head stops pounding."

Gillette shrugged. "Just as well. After last night I doubt either of us can ever show our faces there again, anyway."

"Not like this we can't. Norrington will have our commissions. Not to mention our necks."

"If he's even awake, that is."

Groves looked up at Gillette, then winced as the sun caught his eyes and seemed to pierce a hole through his skull.

"You know Norrington can't hold his liquor," Gillette insisted. "He was worse off than we were last night."

Groves frowned. "He didn't try to climb the battlements."

"He threw up on the battlements," Gillette countered. "And he's probably still passed out in his office. If we hurry back, he won't even notice we were gone."

Groves gazed down at the waves rolling against the side of the ship, taking a moment to consider. He wondered if it were wishful thinking to believe that Gillette might be right. Maybe Norrington wouldn't mind. The wedding, after all, and Norrington had been there too...

"Good morning, gentlemen," a voice said, and Groves cringed.

"Bloody hell," Gillette muttered. "How did he find us?"

Both lieutenants turned and faced Norrington, who was standing across the deck wearing a smug expression and showing no signs of his involvement in the previous night's festivities. Norrington casually crossed the deck, holding his hands neatly behind his back as he came towards the two lieutenants. "Sleep well?" he asked pleasantly.

"Yes, actually," Gillette replied. "Those old sails are quite comfortable. I doubt your desk made so suitable a pillow."

Norrington's mouth twitched into a slight smile, acknowledging Gillette's meaning, and then he looked over at Groves and asked, "Where's the rest of your uniform?"

"I don't know," Groves admitted. "I don't remember much after you went to hide in your office."

Again, an amused smile played across Norrington's face. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," he said, and turned to go. Then he paused and threw over his shoulder, "Oh, and I shall see both of you in my office, as soon as you can manage to make yourselves presentable."

An hour later, Groves and Gillette were standing in Norrington's office, doing their best to look remorseful while they received a stern reprimand for their behavior. Apparently everyone on duty the night before had witnessed the two lieutenants parading around the fort together, laughing and shouting and singing. Norrington also produced Groves' coat and hat, which had apparently been shed when the lieutenant climbed on top of a cannon to inform the entire fort that his little sister had just been married to Gregory Wallace.

"Oh dear God," Groves muttered. His head pounded harder as the vague memory came to him, but he was grateful that his things had been found. He sighed and put his coat back on. "You know, James, you're not innocent in this."

"Oh?" Norrington said, clearly still amused by the situation. "And what evidence is there to support such a ludicrous claim?"

"Ludicrous!" Groves repeated. "You were at the wedding too, and everyone knows it!"

"Yes," Gillette agreed. "But he somehow had enough sense to go into hiding afterwards."

"You both are dismissed for the rest of the day," Norrington said. "You won't be much use in your present conditions, clearly, and I doubt anyone else around here will have much patience for your quarrelsome tempers."

"Quarrelsome!" Groves cried. "You're the one - "

Gillette took his arm and led him out. "Come on," he said, then added, just loud enough for Norrington to hear, "He's just mad because he hasn't had his own wedding yet."

Groves went home and found Emma and Gregory waiting for him. Gregory looked amused; Emma did not. She greeted her brother with a frown. "Well, it's about time!" she scolded. "I was starting to wonder if you were ever coming back. Where have you been?"

Groves winced and put his hand to his head. "Please don't shout."

Gregory just laughed. "You look terrible."

"Oh, shut it," Groves muttered. He dropped onto the small sofa and lay down. He just wanted to sleep, but he knew Emma wasn't going to leave him alone until she got the explanation she wanted. "I was at the fort," Groves said. "With Gillette and Norrington."

"Of course you were," Emma said. She crossed her arms, still frowning.

"Then Norrington locked himself in his office, and Gillette and I..." He stopped. "Well, we woke up on the _Dauntless._"

"You're both idiots."

"Yes, I know. Norrington's already informed us. Gave us both a reprimand and said we're to report to him tomorrow for "disciplinary action." Can you believe that? As if he wasn't part of it."

"You know Norrington's got a promotion coming up," Emma said. "He's got to stay out of trouble. And you and Gillette are probably no help to him in that."

Groves put his hand over his eyes, knowing his sister had a good point, but hating to admit it. "Please, Emma, don't talk so loudly. My head hurts."

"Serves you right," Emma said. "I hope you'll forgive me if I don't have much sympathy for you."

Groves looked up at her. "Not much sympathy?" He repeated. "So you do care a little. Enough to bring me some water?"

Emma sighed and rolled her eyes, but she and Gregory went into the kitchen. Groves closed his eyes again and massaged his temples. He hadn't even considered Norrington's upcoming promotion. Captain Norrington would soon be Commodore Norrington, and Emma was right that Governor Swann wouldn't be pleased to hear of any disorderly conduct on Norrington's part. Plus, Groves was almost sure Norrington had a soft spot for the Governor's daughter. He couldn't risk losing the Governor's favor just because of a little drinking at a wedding. Groves sighed, feeling like an idiot.

Emma was back. Groves sat up, making room for Emma to join him on the sofa, and she handed him a glass of water, which he gratefully accepted.

"You're not injured, are you?" Emma asked, studying his face with mild concern. "I was worried when you didn't come home."

"I'm fine," he said. "Just hungover." He took a long drink of water, then looked back at his sister. "Are you angry?"

She sighed. "No, I'm not angry. I was just afraid you might have gotten into some kind of trouble."

"I'm sorry," he said. "You're right. I acted like a fool. I got caught up in the celebrating, I suppose. But really, I couldn't be happier for you."

Emma nodded. "I know," she said, then a smile crept across her face. "From what I hear, the whole fort knows."

Groves leaned his head back against the sofa with a groan. "I swear, I'll never drink again."

Emma laughed, and stood up to leave. "Don't be ridiculous," she said. "In a month, the three of you will have a promotion to celebrate."


	8. Sparrow, Elizabeth, and Turner

**Sparrow, Elizabeth, and Turner**

There was no celebration the night of Norrington's promotion, much to the dismay of both Groves and Gillette. The new Commodore was not in a particularly celebratory mood after his failed proposal to Elizabeth Swann and the hour spent searching for Jack Sparrow, the pirate who rescued Elizabeth and then used her as a hostage in his escape. The lieutenants tried separately to convince Norrington that he ought to at least have a drink or two to celebrate the promotion, because, after all, it was reason to celebrate. When he refused, they came at him again, together, to suggest that if he didn't want to have a drink to celebrate he might as well have one to make up for the day's disappointments.

Again, Norrington declined. "I'm afraid that no amount of premature celebration will speed Miss Swann's response," he said. "You both go enjoy yourselves."

"That hardly seems fair," Gillette replied. "Not when you're so miserable."

"I'm not miserable."

"Yes, you are," Groves argued, "and you're making us miserable too. The least you could do is come have a drink with us."

Norrington smiled faintly. "Perhaps tomorrow."

The two lieutenants gave up and left to go "enjoy themselves", but they didn't get far before the sound of cannon fire brought them both running back to the fort. Port Royal was being attacked by pirates. The darkness and fog had made the ship's approach silent and invisible, and she had taken the town by surprise. The ship fired cannonballs into the town while the pirate crew raided homes and shops for valuables. The town was in chaos. Both soldiers and civilians were in the streets, using whatever weapons they could find to try to defend the town against its attackers.

The pirates' departure was sudden and seemingly random, and left an eerie silence. When the order to cease fire came, Groves repeated it to the artillery men, then stood listening to the ringing in his ears and staring out at the darkness. Several soldiers lay dead or wounded around him, and Groves was relieved when he glanced along the fort wall and saw Gillette and Norrington both standing and uninjured. Groves hurried over to them.

Norrington looked as shaken as Groves felt, but his concern was, as always, for those serving under him. "You're all right, Lieutenant?"

Groves nodded.

"Are we to pursue them?" Gillette asked.

Norrington shook his head. "Not tonight," he said. "There are more important things to attend to here."

Groves looked around at the piles of stone and dust, the damage done by cannonballs, and heard the cries and moans of injured men. The pirates' attack hadn't lasted long, and yet they had left so many holes in the town and its fort. He glanced over at Norrington. "Are you sure you won't have a drink?"

* * *

By morning, two things were clear: the damage to the town wasn't nearly as bad as it had originally seemed, and Elizabeth Swann was missing. Her maid, Estrella, hysterically insisted that Elizabeth had been kidnapped by the pirates. Norrington ordered the Governor's mansion searched. The Swann residence had been an obvious target for anyone seeking expensive loot and valuable hostages, and the men who searched it found the house ransacked and the butler dead, but no sign of Elizabeth. Hearing the news, the Governor's face took on an expression of panic, and fear flashed across the Commodore's eyes.

"Oh, God!" the Governor cried, dropping into a chair.

Norrington's face hardened. Determination and urgency took the place of fear, and he resolutely faced the Governor. "I will find her," he said. "That is a promise." He ordered that the _Dauntless _be made ready to sail.

Just a few hours after sunrise, Groves stood on the deck of the _Dauntless_, watching the _Interceptor_ shrink towards the horizon. Jack Sparrow and Will Turner had managed to commandeer it, despite Norrington's efforts at stopping them. It had been a clever trick, Groves thought. Sparrow had commandeered the _Dauntless, _thereby forcing the Navy to pursue in the _Interceptor_. When Norrington and his sailors boarded the _Dauntless,_ the two rogues simply slipped over to the _Interceptor_ and made off with it. Jack Sparrow had bested the Navy in their own port, with their own ships. All without firing a single shot. The famous pirate had given stellar performance, brilliantly living up to Groves' secret expectations, and the lieutenant couldn't help a small smile of admiration. "That's got to be the best pirate I've ever seen," he said.

Norrington was leaning on the railing, glaring out at the horizon. "So it would seem."

Groves cast an anxious glance at the Commodore, and thought that if looks could kill, both he and Sparrow would have been dead. He took a step to put a bit of distance between himself and the Commodore, and looked down at the water at Gillette and the other sailors with him holding onto splintered pieces of the longboat. Groves called over his shoulder, "Man overboard!" and the sailors hurried to pull the men onto the ship.

Norrington kicked the wall in frustration, then turned to watch as the men from the longboat were pulled aboard. Gillette climbed onto the ship, soaking wet and dripping onto the deck. He grumbled as he tried to wring the seawater out of his coat.

"Gillette," Norrington said, moving to meet the sopping lieutenant. "What happened?" The question was short and direct, but the violence had faded from the Commodore's eyes. Now he just wanted to get down to business.

Gillette gave an indignant explanation of how Sparrow and Turner had come aboard the _Dauntless _and forced the sailors into a longboat at gunpoint, placing as much of the blame on Sparrow as possible.

Norrington sighed, resigning himself to the knowledge that he had been beaten by a pirate and a blacksmith. "Prepare this ship to sail," he said. "We are to depart as scheduled."

"We're not going to pursue them?" Gillette asked.

"They've already outrun us," Norrington said. "But I'll catch Sparrow again, and when I do I will show him that not even the best pirate in the Caribbean is above the law." The Commodore threw a pointed look at Groves, then walked away to go see about the rest of the ship.

Gillette raised his eyebrows. "Best pirate in the Caribbean?"

"Well, you've got to admit it was clever."

"I don't care how clever it was. He made me look like a fool, and now I'm soaking wet."

"You made yourself look like a fool when you shouted "abandon ship" from a longboat," Groves said. "Don't you know how to use oars?"

Gillette scowled and stalked off across the deck, leaving wet footprints behind him. Groves took a moment to enjoy the amusing sight, then looked back out to the sea. The _Interceptor_ had become one with the horizon.

* * *

Many days later, Groves stood on the battlements, watching the _Dauntless _sail away. His left arm rested in a sling, bandaged and sore due to a deep slash wound. The injury kept him in Port Royal on medical leave while the _Dauntless _sailed in pursuit of Jack Sparrow.

In the past weeks, Elizabeth Swann had been found marooned on an island with none other than Jack Sparrow. She had pleaded with her father and Norrington to go after the _Black Pearl__, _the pirate ship which had attacked Port Royal, in order to rescue Will Turner, who had given himself up to the _Black Pearl's_ captain. They reluctantly agreed, only after Elizabeth appealed directly to the Commodore by agreeing to marry him. Jack Sparrow provided a heading, and the _Dauntless _sailed to the Isla de Muerta, the island the _Black Pearl _called home.

When night fell, the Commodore took Sparrow and several marines in longboats to the mouth of the cave. Groves and Gillette, along with most of the crew, were on the _Dauntless _when it was suddenly attacked. The pirates seemed to appear out of the darkness, and men fell dead before anyone realized the ship had been boarded. A battle ensued, becoming more chaotic as the Navy realized they couldn't kill the pirates. Elizabeth had spoken of a curse on the _Black Pearl's _crew which made them immortal, appearing like rotting skeletons in the moonlight. Gillette had laughed at Elizabeth's claim, but it soon became clear that she had spoken the truth. But there was no time for shock or disbelief over the pirates' supernatural advantage. The crew of the _Dauntless _fought to defend their ship and their lives, but it was a hopeless cause without any means of defeating their attackers._  
_

Groves thought himself fortunate that the only injury he received was a slash across the arm. He fought relentlessly alongside his shipmates, watching with growing despair as men fell around him and the pirates only grinned each time they were stabbed or shot. The fighting stopped abruptly when both the pirates and the Navy realized that though the moon was shining through the clouds, the pirates appeared like mortal men. One of the pirates fell to the deck, dead, claimed by Norrington's sword. Later, Elizabeth informed the Commodore that the curse had been broken, but at the time, the Navy men were just glad that the ship had not been taken.

The intense fighting combined with the bleeding wound left Groves lightheaded and unsteady on his feet. He sat down against the side of the ship, clutching his arm to slow the profuse bleeding, and watched as the pirates were marched down to the brig. Elizabeth Swann arrived in a longboat, accompanied by William Turner and Jack Sparrow. Elizabeth was embraced by both her father and the Commodore, then received a mild scolding from the Governor while Norrington personally escorted Sparrow to the brig. Turner was all but ignored. After that, Groves couldn't recall much, except that someone had bandaged his arm and then helped him to his cabin.

Norrington had, of course, intended to hang Sparrow within days of their return to Port Royal. On the morning of the scheduled hanging, Groves stood on the fort wall, watching the activity in the courtyard. His injured arm prevented him from being part of it himself, and though he was alarmed to realize it, he thought he would almost regret seeing Captain Sparrow executed. Groves knew he would miss hearing tales of Sparrow's grand adventures, but more than that, Sparrow hardly seemed the hardened type of criminal who usually faced the gallows. Sparrow was a pirate, to be sure, but he hardly seemed so evil as the men who had crewed the _Black Pearl._ Elizabeth insisted the pirate had played a role in her rescue, and Turner had vehemently opposed the execution, insisting that Sparrow was a decent man. If it weren't for the brand on Sparrow's arm, Groves might have agreed with the blacksmith. But the law remained, and the law was binding.

The execution stopped, however, when Turner rushed through the crowd of spectators and dueled the executioner to free Sparrow from the noose. Together, Sparrow and Turner put up a brave fight, but Norrington and a group of marines finally cornered them up on the battlements.

In all the chaos, Groves lost sight of what went on, but later, standing outside Norrington's closed office door, Gillette explained what had happened.

"We had them both surrounded," Gillette said, "when Miss Swann took leave of her senses and her pledge to the Commodore. She stood between him and that pirate like she was some sort of hero and told the Commodore it was really Turner she's been in love with this whole time. And after that, well, it was only Sparrow's serendipitous clumsiness that saved him. He fell off the wall, landed in the ocean, where, lo and behold, his ship was waiting to pick him up."

"That man's luck really is unbelievable," Groves commented. "I'm starting to wonder if it really is luck at all, or if he's just a step ahead of us all the time."

Gillette shook his head, scowling as if he had been personally affronted. "Well, today Sparrow's luck was that the Commodore felt moved to a bold and uncharacteristic order for inaction. We're to start after Sparrow in the morning."

Groves frowned. "In the morning?"

"I don't like it either. Without the _Interceptor,_ how are we to catch them if we wait an entire day?"

"What about Miss Swann?"

Gillette sighed, and his vigor faded. "He released her," Gillette said. "Gave her and Turner a sort of blessing."

Groves looked at the closed office door and shook his head. "It's not right."

"No, it most certainly isn't."

"Has he been in there this whole time?"

Gillette nodded.

Groves moved towards the door. "I'm going in."

"What for?"

"To make sure he isn't planning anything rash."

Gillette hesitated, then reluctantly followed Groves unannounced into the Commodore's office.

Norrington was at the back window, resting his hands on the ledge and staring blankly out towards the docks. He didn't react when Groves and Gillette entered, and didn't even seem to notice them until Groves shut the door again. Norrington looked up when he heard the door click, then simply turned and faced the two lieutenants. He just looked at them for a moment, as if he needed that moment to comprehend their presence, then he straightened his shoulders and clasped his hands resolutely behind his back. "Mr. Groves," he said. "How is your arm?"

Groves rolled his eyes. "Oh, for God's sake, James."

Norrington frowned slightly.

"You've just been jilted by the woman you love, you've let a convicted pirate go free, and you have the nerve to pretend you're concerned about my arm?"

"Lieutenant - "

"I'm not here as your lieutenant," Groves interrupted. "I'm here as your friend."

Norrington dropped his eyes and stared silently at the floor.

"Commodore..." Gillette began. Then he stopped and started again. "James, if there's anything - "

"There isn't," Norrington said, looking up. "I just want to get on with my life." He paused, then turned away and paced back to the window. "I should have known," he said. "It's my own fault. I should have known she didn't love me. Why should she? What reason did I give her to care for me?"

"You know it's not your fault," Groves said. "And I think it was an honorable thing you did, releasing her. Better than she deserved."

Norrington stared at the ground and shook his head. "It would have done no good to force both of us into a life of unhappiness."

"There will be other women," Gillette offered. "Plenty of them, with enough sense to see you're a man worth having."

Norrington tossed Gillette a glance and a faint smile. "I suppose so," he said, but he didn't mean it. Then he sighed and gazed down at the window ledge. The smile faded, and was replaced by a look of bitter resolve. "In the meantime, I intend to catch Jack Sparrow and see that he is properly hanged." The Commodore lifted his head and looked over at the two lieutenants. "I don't care what it takes. I'll catch that pirate if it's the last thing I do."

As Groves stood on the battlements, watching the _Dauntless _disappear over the horizon, he remembered the determination in Norrington's eyes. Determination, tainted by hurt and anger that needed someone to blame. The Commodore had found that someone in Jack Sparrow, and Groves feared that Norrington really would stop at nothing to carry out his own private justice.

* * *

**END OF PART ONE**

Thanks for reading! I know this story is kind of non-traditional, so I'd really appreciate any feedback you guys have!


	9. The Dauntless

**PART TWO**

* * *

**The _Dauntless_**

Groves stared into Norrington's empty office. The space hadn't been touched since Norrington's departure, and it seemed as if any minute the Commodore could walk in, sit down at his desk, and pick up where he left off. The desk chair sat about a foot back from the desk, slightly crooked. A few papers covered one end of the desk, separated into piles that were almost perfectly in order, and other miscellaneous items sat in a small, slightly disorganized pile at the other end. The clock at the back of the room had stopped for lack of winding. All of it sat waiting, ready to be used again at any moment.

But Groves knew it never would be. After months of no news from the crew that had gone after Jack Sparrow, a letter had finally reached Port Royal with news of the _Dauntless's_ demise. Norrington had chased the _Black Pearl _across the ocean, nearly caught her once or twice, and then driven the _Dauntless_ through a hurricane rather than give up pursuit. The ship had not survived the storm. Many of the crew had drowned. Norrington was forced to resign his commission rather than face a brutal court-martial and a damaged reputation. No one had heard from him since his resignation.

There had been no word from Gillette, either. Groves felt his pulse start to race as he realized his friend could very well be dead. With no list of confirmed casualties or survivors, there was no way to prove otherwise, and though he hated to assume the worst, Groves couldn't ignore the thought. He was sick to his stomach and still in shock. Surely the human mind wasn't meant to handle so much bad news at once. He stared at the empty chair behind the Commodore's desk, feeling desperately alone and, somehow, as though he had been betrayed.

"Lieutenant Groves?" Governor Swann had appeared, and was looking at the lieutenant strangely. "Is everything all right?"

"You know that it isn't," Groves said, staring at the ground.

"Yes," the Governor agreed. "It's such a shame about..." He stopped as he met Groves' eyes and saw the genuine pain there. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant," he said. "There's nothing I can do."

* * *

When he was finally home, Groves dropped into a chair and closed his eyes. He felt drained. The day's work had been no more demanding than any other day's, but the news about the _Dauntless _had weighed heavily on him, making it a strain to carry on as though life was normal. The other lieutenants felt it too, acutely aware that it was only a trick of fate that they themselves had not been on the doomed ship. They grieved the loss of the man who had been their leader. Norrington would be missed, and his resignation was met with disappointment and a sense of not knowing where to turn.

But few, if any, of the others knew how deeply the Commodore had been hurt by Elizabeth Swann's rejection. It was more than rejection, Groves thought. It was a betrayal. And Norrington had survived in the only way he knew how, by clinging even more tightly to the structure and duties of his job, and by lashing out at Sparrow, who just happened to be the easiest target. Groves thought of Lieutenant Gillette, missing, likely dead, following his friend and leader through a hurricane. Surely Gillette had known better, but he would never have abandoned his friend. Groves wondered if anyone had tried to talk Norrington out of the pursuit. He wondered what he would have done if he had been there.

"There you are," Emma said, appearing in the doorway to the kitchen. "Aren't you coming in to supper?"

Groves hesitated. The thought of food wasn't particularly appealing. He thought he'd rather be left alone, and he didn't want to drag Emma and Gregory into the mess that was on his mind.

"Lionel and his wife are here already," Emma continued. She gave her brother a scolding look. "You didn't forget, did you?"

Groves sighed. Gregory had been wanting to host the printer and his wife for some time, now that he was married and had a place that could be considered his own home. Emma had finally agreed, and had spent all week preparing for the evening.

"No, of course not," Groves said, though he dreaded the thought of making small talk with the printer. For the first time in his life he wasn't looking forward to interesting new company. But he told his sister, "I'll be there in a few minutes."

"With a smile, I hope. Right now you look like you have a stomachache."

"I do have a stomachache."

Emma frowned slightly and came into the room. "Are you all right?"

He nodded. "It's just been a terribly long day," he said. He tried to smile at her. "But I won't let it ruin your evening. I know you and Gregory have been looking forward to this. I wouldn't miss it."

Emma held his gaze for a moment, studying his face. Groves looked back and tried to wipe away all traces of unhappiness, but the smile felt unnatural and it quickly crumbled. Emma sat down in the chair next to him. "What happened?" she asked.

Groves hesitated again. "Just some bad news," he said.

"What news?"

He shook his head. "Later," he said. "I'd rather not talk about it now, and I really don't want to ruin this evening for you."

He expected Emma to question him further, but she didn't. She just looked at him for a moment, then said, "You're really not feeling well, are you?"

Groves sighed. "I'll come in to dinner with you, but I probably won't eat much."

Emma stood up and crossed her arms. "If you go in there, you'll make our guests depressed."

"Emma, I'm sorry. I really don't want to upset anyone, but I can hardly avoid dinner without being rude."

"Of course you can. I'll just tell them the truth: that you had a hard day, you're not feeling well, and you really just need some peace and quiet this evening, but that you're very sorry to miss them."

"Emma - "

"Now go lock yourself in your room so they don't see you looking so miserable."

Groves stood up and slowly went to his room, feeling as if he were walking underwater, and lay down on his bed until Emma brought his supper on a tray and told him the guests had gone. Then Groves sat up and finally explained to his sister about the hurricane, the _Dauntless,_ and Norrington's resignation.

She responded with appropriate shock and sadness, wondering aloud who would take Norrington's place and why the man had felt the need to resign over losing just one ship.

"He was forced to," Groves muttered. "No man worthy of his title sails a ship into a hurricane."

Emma hugged her brother, understanding his distress, and left him alone.

Groves stared at the closed bedroom door that shut him away from the rest of the house and thought of Norrington, his friend, who was physically alive but dead in judgment and honor. _Madness would be sailing into a storm I couldn't beat, _Norrington had once said. Groves thought the Commodore had encountered the unbeatable storm long before the hurricane in Elizabeth's betrayal, which had driven him mad enough to disregard his own life and the lives of his men. Something wasn't right in the world, Groves thought. Another storm was coming.


	10. Lord Beckett

**Lord Beckett**

"What's the Company doing here?" Lieutenant Peck asked.

Groves shook his head, straining to see through the rain. The _HMS Endeavour _had arrived early that morning, without any notice, bringing longboat after longboat of Company agents. Activity had ceased at the fort and, it seemed, throughout all of Port Royal. Even Elizabeth Swann's wedding had been halted. Her engagement to Will Turner was all anyone had talked about for the past months, and anticipation of the coming wedding had lifted the town's spirits in the wake of Commodore Norrington's resignation. Elizabeth sat forlornly in the fort courtyard, surrounded by all the decorations and empty tables and chairs. Groves thought that if she had any sense at all she wouldn't be sitting out in the rain feeling sorry for herself, but he did feel a twinge of sympathy for her. She may have intentionally manipulated the Commodore, broken his heart, and driven him mad with grief, but she hardly deserved to have her wedding day ruined.

Three men dressed in the Company's uniform walked up to where Groves and Peck were standing. The man in the lead took a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Groves. "From the King," the man said.

Groves scanned the words on the paper, holding it so that Peck could read it over his shoulder.

"You are now under the authority of Lord Cutler Beckett of the East India Trading Company," the man said, as if the letter bearing the King's seal wasn't clear enough. "He will take control of operations at this fort until a proper order has been restored."

"Proper order?" Groves blurted. "What do you - "

"I suggest you do as you're told, Lieutenant," the man said. He took the letter back, folded it, and slipped it back into his coat pocket. "Lord Beckett is a powerful man."

The company men walked away, and Groves stared after them, feeling an anxiety he couldn't explain. Something in the man's parting admonition had sounded ominous. It was as if something other than rain was falling on Port Royal, something much heavier and harder to define.

"Lieutenant," Peck said.

Groves followed the other lieutenant's gaze and saw a large group of Company agents leading both Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann away in shackles. The Governor stood in an archway, staring desperately after them. A small, pale man in a powdered wig stood near the Governor, watching the arrests with a smug satisfaction. He spoke to the man standing next to him, a tall, black statue of a man, and the man in black gave a stiff nod and walked swiftly back towards the shore where the longboats were arriving. The pale man started towards the fort. Governor Swann followed as if in a daze, throwing pained looks after his daughter, her fiance, and their captors.

"Come on," Peck urged. "Let's go inside, out of this horrid rain."

Groves nodded and followed Peck, but his mind was racing. Elizabeth and Turner were being arrested on Lord Beckett's orders, but Groves could think of nothing either of them had done to warrant an arrest, besides their marginal involvement in the Jack Sparrow affair. Even in that, only Turner's actions could reasonably be considered unlawful, and Governor Swann had already granted clemency to the blacksmith. Surely none of it was cause for the Company to get involved. Groves desperately wished Norrington were there, reassuring everyone by his confident and rational manner of handling any crisis. But Groves knew that if Norrington were still Commodore, there would have been no need for the Company. He resisted blaming Norrington for the trouble, but he couldn't think of any other explanation for Lord Beckett's takeover.

The two lieutenants went into the fort and found the Governor standing outside Norrington's old office, staring in through the open door with an expression of shock and mild horror. Inside, Lord Beckett was pacing around the room as if inspecting it.

"Governor?" Groves said.

Governor Swann slowly turned to face him. "Mr. Groves," he said, fighting to keep his voice from shaking, "I trust you've been made aware of Lord Beckett's arrival."

"Yes," Groves answered. "Sir, what's going on?"

The Governor hesitated. "It seems..." he began, then stopped and started again. "It seems that Lord Beckett intends to punish those responsible for Jack Sparrow's escape."

"I thought that was all over a long time ago," Peck said.

"So did I," the Governor agreed. "But I fear we're all in for a great deal of trouble."

Groves frowned. "No one was responsible for Sparrow's escape," he said. "Unless you'd like to arrest his ship for being the faster, or the hurricane for sinking the _Dauntless, _I don't see how - " Groves stopped when he saw Lord Beckett standing in the doorway, watching with a piercing, impassive gaze.

Beckett raised an eyebrow, just slightly. "Don't stop on my account," he said coolly. "Do go on, Lieutenant...?"

"Groves," Groves supplied. "Theodore Groves, Sir."

"In the future, Lieutenant, you'd be wise to hold your tongue," Beckett advised. "Otherwise, you may find yourself arrested for treason."

"Treason!" Groves repeated.

Beckett didn't respond. The corner of his mouth twitched upward slightly, in some momentary satisfaction, then his face regained its statue-like stare. "I suppose you know why it was necessary for me to come here, Lieutenant," Beckett said. He turned and moved back into the empty office as he spoke, clearly expecting the others to follow him. He paused and glanced back over his shoulder, waiting for an answer from the lieutenant.

"The letter said you were here to "restore order"," Groves said, as amiably as he could.

Beckett gave a faint smile. "Yes, but it's so much more than that." Beckett stopped next to Norrington's desk and turned back to face his small audience. "Recent events have raised the concern that piracy has gotten out of hand in the Caribbean. Pirates have taken liberties and been given leniency that was previously unheard-of. I have come to exercise the necessary authority and do whatever it takes to see that all traces of piracy are eradicated from these waters, to ensure that those of us who follow the law retain the upper hand." He paused and studied Groves for a moment. "I assume you have no objections to such a goal, Lieutenant?"

Groves frowned. "Of course not, but I don't see - "

"Good." Beckett crossed the room in a few measured steps, taking a piece of paper out of his coat as he did. "Then perhaps you would be able to assist me in locating this man." He casually passed the paper to Groves, never taking his eyes off the lieutenant's face.

Groves unfolded the paper and felt his breath catch when he saw that he held a warrant for the arrest of a Mr. James Norrington, on charges of conspiring to set free a man convicted of piracy. The penalty for such a crime was death. Groves looked up from the paper in shock. "What is this?" he demanded.

"The law does not discriminate, Lieutenant," Beckett said calmly. "If you have any information concerning the whereabouts of Mr. Norrington, I urge you to share it."

"This must be some misunderstanding," Groves insisted.

"There is no misunderstanding," Beckett said. For the first time his voice betrayed impatience. "James Norrington had a convicted man in custody, on the gallows, and yet the convicted man did not hang. He escaped, due to the combined efforts of Mr. Turner and Miss Swann. Mr. Norrington did not pursue the _Black Pearl,_ and, as a result, a dangerous pirate now roams free."

"Sir, you weren't there. It wasn't like that."

Beckett looked amused. "Do you know where Mr. Norrington is, or not?"

"No." Groves handed the warrant back. "Commodore Norrington left here with every intention of capturing Jack Sparrow, and that's the last time I saw him. I haven't heard from him since receiving news of his resignation."

"No one has," the Governor added.

The lack of information did not seem to disturb Lord Beckett at all. He meticulously folded the warrant and slid it back into his coat pocket, then walked over to the wide window that faced the harbor. He folded his hands neatly behind his back and stood in front of the window, looking out as if surveying a kingdom of tiny subjects. "I will have order," Lord Beckett said. "And I will not have my methods questioned. It is unfortunate that your bright young Commodore has fallen victim to such poor judgment so early in his career, but I do hope that the rest of you will learn from his misdeeds and join me in this crusade." He paused, and glanced over his shoulder at the three men who stared blankly from the doorway. "I offer you a world without piracy," he said. "Now is your chance to enter it willingly. I will not be opposed."

* * *

Groves sat with Lieutenant Peck in a dark corner of a tavern, glaring at the backs of the Company agents but avoiding eye contact. He had barely touched his drink, not because he didn't need it, but because he feared that he might get himself into trouble if his judgment were impaired by too much brandy. Lord Beckett's martial law had only been in place for an afternoon, and yet Groves already felt like he had been wearing heavy chains for a lifetime. The people in the town were afraid, confused, and wary. As they should be, Groves thought. He took a drink of his brandy but didn't taste it.

Peck finally broke the silence. "What Lord Beckett said about Norrington..." Peck began, cautiously. "Is he right? Was it really piracy when he let Sparrow go free?"

"He didn't let Sparrow go free," Groves argued. "He gave the man a head start as thanks for saving Miss Swann's life."

"But can he really be hanged for that?"

Groves didn't answer. As far as he was concerned, James Norrington was an honorable man who did not deserve to hang. Whatever his misdeeds or lapses of judgment, Norrington was not a pirate. Norrington hated pirates. He and Lord Beckett claimed the same goal: to rid the waters of pirates and criminals. But Norrington was a man who inspired trust and confidence, not fear and desperation.

For the first time, Groves acknowledged the anger he felt towards the Commodore's absence. Not towards the man himself, but towards the circumstances that had used Norrington against his will, manipulated him into leaving Port Royal open for Lord Beckett's takeover, and ruined his good name in the process. Groves hated himself for thinking less of his friend, for finding fault in a man who had only done what seemed most right at the time, but he couldn't help thinking back to a time when Norrington's decisions had always led to good things. Now Groves was struggling to find anything to feel good about. Had Norrington really made wrong decisions? Was Lord Beckett right? Was the end of piracy so necessary as to demand such a ruthless crusade? Was it treason to think otherwise?

Groves quickly finished his drink and stood up to leave, hoping that the questions and anger would stay behind as he walked out of the tavern. The twilight air was welcome, but the questions remained. One in particular floated to the surface and seemed to drown out all the others.

What if the choice between Norrington and Beckett was the choice between piracy and order?


	11. The Former Commodore

**The Former Commodore**

Lord Beckett sent ship after ship out from Port Royal, giving orders that the waters be searched for a mysterious chest. Beckett had no guess as to where it was, other than it was likely buried somewhere in the Caribbean, and he refused to say why he wanted it or what was in it. Groves was stationed on the _HMS Reverie_ as a first lieutenant under Captain Anderson. The ship spent many tiring weeks searching port after port for any news about a chest, the "dead man's chest", but learned nothing useful. When the ship's supplies and the crew's patience was nearly exhausted, Captain Anderson made the decision to turn back. Perhaps one of the other ships had already found the chest. Maybe Lord Beckett would realize it was an impossible mission.

Several days out from Port Royal, a longboat was spotted, floating out in open waters with a man sitting in it. The man waved when he saw the _Reverie, _and Groves ordered that the man be picked up. What someone was doing out in the middle of the ocean in a longboat, alone, Groves couldn't imagine, but it was clear the man was in need of rescue. The _Reverie_ came up alongside the longboat, and the man climbed aboard.

Groves found himself face-to-face with James Norrington. The former Commodore was dirty and unshaven, and still wearing his old Navy coat, now filthy and worn. His eyes were the only recognizable feature.

Groves blinked, staring at the man who had once been his friend and an honorable man. "James?" he stammered.

Norrington met the lieutenant's eyes. "Lieutenant," he said, resolutely ignoring the stares of the other men. His voice was hoarse. "I must speak with your captain."

"Sir, there's a warrant - "

"Not for long," Norrington interrupted. "Take me to your captain." He hesitated, then dropped his eyes to the deck for a brief moment and added, "Please."

"Of course, Sir," Groves said, quickly. He had never seen Norrington so close to begging, so nearly broken, and he could barely stand it. He wanted to take the former Commodore aside and demand to know where he had been all these months, why no one had heard from him, had he lost his mind and for God's sake what was he doing in the middle of the ocean in a rowboat? But he didn't. He let out a deep breath to let out the worst of the tension and frustration, and then led Norrington to the captain's cabin.

Captain Anderson was not particularly welcoming at first, having been woken up, but Norrington introduced himself and insisted on speaking with the captain. Even with no title and covered in grime, Norrington still possessed a commanding manner, and Anderson complied, stepping aside to let both Norrington and Groves into the room.

"All right, Mr. Norrington," Anderson said, crossing to his desk chair. "What is this urgent business you'd like to discuss?"

Norrington reached into his coat, then paused and closed his eyes for a moment. "I need water," he said. He looked over at Groves.

"Of course," Groves said. "I'll be right back." He hurried out to get a cup and fill it with water, and then returned to the cabin just as Norrington was putting something bound in leather into his coat.

"Well, that seems to be in order, then," Anderson was saying.

Norrington didn't acknowledge Groves' questioning look. He just thanked the lieutenant for the water, then drank it greedily until the cup was empty.

Groves frowned slightly. "You're dehydrated," he said. "And you must be hungry."

"To put it mildly," Norrington replied.

Captain Anderson dismissed them both, then Groves and Norrington went to the lieutenant's cabin. Groves sent a cabin boy to bring some food. Norrington dropped into the desk chair and just looked at the floor in front of him. Groves stood at the door, waiting for the cabin boy to return, and wishing the silence weren't so uncomfortable. He studied Norrington's tired face, trying to figure out what emotions it was trying to hide, but came to no answer before the cabin boy arrived with a tray. Groves thanked the boy, then shut the door and set the tray in front of Norrington.

Groves sat down on his bed while Norrington ate as if he hadn't tasted food in days. Maybe he hadn't, Groves thought, and he wondered what horrors Norrington had seen in the past year. He wondered if he really wanted to know.

When Norrington finished eating, he kept his back to Groves and didn't say anything. The silence seemed to solidify between them. Though he was finally sitting in the same room as Norrington, Groves felt that they were farther separated than they had ever been. Norrington wasn't the same as he had been when he stepped onto the _Dauntless _to chase Jack Sparrow. Groves stared at Norrington, knowing that a stranger now lived in the familiar body.

"I wish you'd say something," Groves said.

But still Norrington was silent. He sighed, and his shoulders sagged, but he said nothing. He didn't turn around, either. Groves realized Norrington was avoiding him, and refusing to speak to him on purpose. Finally the lieutenant had had enough of sitting and staring at the other man's back, so he stood up, crossed the room, and faced Norrington.

"I know you sent me for water to get me out of the room," Groves said. "What is it you're hiding from me?"

Norrington looked up at him. "If I really am hiding it from you, do you honestly expect me to answer?"

"Don't pretend like I don't deserve an explanation."

Norrington looked away and stared blankly at the empty plate in front of him. "The only explanation I can give is that we live in a cruel world, Lieutenant, where we are but pawns in the hands of fate."

"Was it fate that sailed the _Dauntless _through a hurricane?"

Norrington shot Groves a sharp glance, then turned away again. He didn't answer.

"Gillette was with you," Groves said. "Is he alive?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" Groves repeated, involuntarily raising his voice. "How can you not know?"

"I don't know," Norrington repeated, meeting the lieutenant's eyes. "We were separated. I was arrested and after that the casualties became numbers. Always numbers, never names."

"And you didn't try to find out?"

"If he was alive and had wished to contact me, I'm sure he would have done so," Norrington said. He stared fiercely into Groves' eyes for a moment, then all the emotion in his eyes hardened into numbness, and he sighed. "I found Sparrow in Tortuga. I thought I wanted to kill him, but instead I'm going to take the pardon he was offered. Letters of Marque, signed by the King, and an arrangement with Lord Beckett should secure my redemption. I will have my life back, Lieutenant, and maybe then I can right some of the wrongs I've created."

Groves just looked at Norrington, trying to read him through his guarded expression. "How much do you know?" Groves asked.

"Know?"

"Lord Beckett sent us looking for a chest."

Norrington didn't respond.

"So that's it?" Groves said. "That's all the explanation I get?"

"That's all the explanation I have, Lieutenant."

Groves sighed. Norrington could be a vault when he wanted to be, refusing to say the things he'd rather keep to himself, and Groves knew that once Norrington resolved not to reveal any more, it was pointless to try to change his mind. "Well, I am glad you're alive," Groves said, letting his voice admit defeat. He wasn't going to get all the answers he wanted. At least, not now.

Norrington closed his eyes and winced slightly. "My head is splitting."

Groves studied his friend's face for a moment and found genuine exhaustion there, surfacing above the tortured walls Norrington had put up around his thoughts. "You have this cabin," Groves said. "We have several days yet before we'll reach Port Royal, so you might as well sleep. I won't bother you if you don't want to be disturbed."

Norrington just nodded without saying anything, and Groves left him alone.

* * *

I haven't gotten a lot of feedback on this story, so if you don't mind leaving a review, I'd really appreciate hearing your thoughts!


	12. Sail

**Sail**

Groves found Norrington on the deck of the _Reverie, _leaning back against the railing with a bottle in his hand, simply observing the activity of the crew. It was mid-afternoon. Groves had hardly seen Norrington at all since his arrival, and was mildly surprised to see the former Commodore out on the deck now. He joined Norrington at the railing.

"I see you've come out of hiding," Groves commented.

Norrington looked over at him and raised an amused eyebrow. "Hiding?" he repeated.

"Don't try to deny it. You've been avoiding me," Groves said. "Actually, you've been avoiding everyone."

"Have I?"

"I'd nearly forgotten you were aboard."

Norrington just took a drink from the bottle and looked out over the deck again. A group of four sailors was gathered around the mast, working with a piece of the rigging and looking up at one of the sails. Norrington watched them silently.

Groves frowned. "What are you drinking?"

"Some of the Captain's whiskey, I believe," Norrington replied. "Fancy a drop?"

Groves was still frowning. "I'm on duty."

"No you're not." Norrington drank from the bottle again. "You haven't been on duty since this morning."

Groves wasn't surprised that Norrington had figured out the shifts, but he did wonder how the former Commodore had come to possess some of Captain Anderson's whiskey. Anderson was stingy with his private stash. But Groves didn't ask. He doubted he'd get a straight answer, and he decided he didn't really care anyway. "We're about a day out from Port Royal," he said.

"I know."

Groves sighed. "Of course you do."

The wind was picking up. Groves glanced up at the sky, and then over at the four men who were still struggling with the ropes. He didn't think it would storm, but they might reach Port Royal sooner than he had originally guessed.

"What on earth are those men doing?" Norrington said. "Does it really take all four of them?" He looked over at Groves and raised an eyebrow. "I don't suppose you're going to go see what all the fuss is about?"

"You're the only one making a fuss."

Norrington rolled his eyes and handed Groves the bottle, then walked over to the group of sailors. He frowned slightly, as if amused by their fruitless efforts at making sense of the piece of rigging, and simply watched for a moment. The four men gave no indication that they knew they were being observed. Groves watched Norrington, trying to decide whether he should intervene before Norrington made a fool of the poor sailors. Part of him thought he ought to drag his friend off the deck and convince him to stay in the cabin where he couldn't cause any trouble, but another, greater part wanted to just stand back and watch.

"What in heaven's name have you done to those lines?" Norrington said.

The sailors looked up from their work, startled. One of them started to respond, but confusion registered on all four faces when they realized that they did not recognize the man who had addressed them.

"I beg your pardon, Sir," one of the sailors said, "but I'm afraid I don't know - "

"If you're trying to adjust that sail, let me assure you it's a job for one man," Norrington interrupted. "Perhaps two, but certainly not four."

"We were trying to unwrap it from - "

Norrington stepped into the middle of the group, took the line from them, and then proceeded to pull it tight and tie it down, positioning the sail to take advantage of the wind. Groves felt the ship creak as it caught the gusts and strained to pick up speed. The four sailors just stared at Norrington, disgruntled but unable to find words to express their discontent. Norrington seemed not to notice their displeasure, however, and wore a look of satisfaction as he looked up at the sail full of air.

"Thank you, whoever you are," one of the men said, finally finding his voice and courage enough to speak up. "But we know how to sail a ship."

Norrington looked at him, amused. "Naturally," he said. "Then you'll have no trouble doing this same thing on the opposite side."

The sailor frowned, and all four of them looked at each other, wondering again who this man was and why he seemed to think himself authorized to give instructions. But his confidence and demonstration of knowledge seemed to lend him enough authority that the four men finally did as they were told. They moved to the other side of the ship to make the other sail open to the fuller winds. Norrington watched them for a moment, then turned to look back at Groves. The former Commodore spread his hands with a smirk and inclined his head.

Groves joined his friend. "You can't be giving orders to the crew," Groves said.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Norrington said. "I may have been forced into resignation, but I haven't gone senile. I still remember a thing or two about sailing."

"If you're trying to prove something, bullying midshipmen is hardly the way to do it. What's gotten into you?" He paused, and frowned slightly. "Besides the whiskey."

Norrington sighed and looked up at the rigging. He glanced from the ropes to the sails to the mast, then lowered his gaze and paced over to the side of the ship. Groves followed him. Norrington turned around and leaned back against the railing, but didn't say anything. He looked over at Groves, then to the bottle of whiskey in the lieutenant's hand. "You're not going to drink that?" Norrington asked.

"No, but neither are you," Groves replied.

"Well, if you're not on duty, and you're not going to have a drink, then what are you doing up here?"

"Looking for you," Groves said, irritably. "Where have you been?"

"Nowhere."

"You're avoiding me."

"On the contrary, Lieutenant. You're the one avoiding me."

Groves turned and faced Norrington squarely. "I've been thinking about the Letters of Marque," Groves said. "How did Sparrow get them?"

Norrington's eyes hardened slightly. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"I don't suppose he gave them to you willingly."

Norrington hesitated and looked down at the deck, staring at it as if his eyes might burn holes through it, and confirming the lieutenant's suspicions that he was hiding something. The Letters of Marque had been offered to Will Turner in exchange for Jack Sparrow's compass. Groves knew that much. He also knew that the letters had been stolen the night Elizabeth Swann escaped from prison, though he didn't think he was supposed to know that part. What he didn't know was how Norrington had managed to acquire the letters, not from Elizabeth or Turner, but from Sparrow. The gaps in Norrington's story were suspicious, especially for a man who had never had anything to hide.

Finally Norrington glanced up and asked, "Don't you think I deserve a second chance?"

"Everyone deserves a second chance," Groves said. "You most of all."

"Then it doesn't matter how I got the Letters."

Groves sighed. He turned the bottle of whiskey upside-down over the railing, letting the rest of the liquid fall into the sea, then handed Norrington the empty bottle. "That's enough of that," he said. "And now, if you think you can stay out of trouble, I'd like to go to my cabin and lie down for a few hours."

"Stay out of trouble," Norrington repeated, looking out towards the horizon. "It's a bit late for that, Lieutenant." He glanced at the empty bottle for a moment, then threw it as far as he could, out to sea.


	13. Return

**Return**

Groves stepped wearily off of the _Reverie_, relieved that the voyage was over. For some reason it had been more tiring than most. A small crowd waited at the docks, mostly sailors and company agents who were eager to know if the chest had been found, but Groves ignored them. He felt tired and a little woozy, as he always did when he stepped onto solid ground after weeks at sea, and was more interested in getting home to his own bed than he was in answering questions. He was tired of hearing about the chest, too. Out at sea, all the crew did was speculate about what was inside it and why Lord Beckett wanted it and where it might be found. To them, Lord Beckett was an exciting enigma. But Groves still thought there was something sinister about the man.

"Theodore?"

Groves paused. Few people used his first name, and certainly none of the sailors or company agents gathered here did. He glanced around, scanning the small crowd.

"Over here."

Groves turned towards the source of the voice, and stopped suddenly. "Gillette."

Lieutenant Gillette stood at the edge of the crowd, not ten feet away. Gillette, who for nearly a year had been missing and presumed dead, was actually very much alive. He joined Groves and the two lieutenants put distance between themselves and the crowd.

"I thought you were dead," Groves said, still in a bit of shock.

"I very nearly was," Gillette replied. "Many were." Gillette just looked towards the docks, either avoiding the memory or reliving it. Then he frowned. "Is that...?

Groves followed the other man's gaze. "Yes," he said.

The former Commodore was making his way along the dock towards shore, escorted by Mercer. Norrington walked purposefully with a determined, careless gait, looking nowhere except straight ahead until he met Groves' eyes, and then Gillette's. Norrington's gaze was hard and guarded. He looked away quickly as if he had seen nothing.

Gillette took a step towards Norrington, but Groves blocked his path. "He's going to see Lord Beckett," Groves said.

"What for?" Gillette asked. "Doesn't he know there's a warrant out for his arrest?"

"He knows," Groves said. "He thinks he's got something to make a bargain with Beckett."

"How? Where did you find him?"

"The middle of the ocean," Groves said. "In a longboat."

"Had he been shipwrecked?"

"I don't think so. He didn't seem injured. Just hungry and thirsty, and not himself." Groves shook his head, wearily remembering the former Commodore's behavior. "It's all a mess, Gillette."

Gillette sighed, then frowned slightly. "Are you all right?"

"I'm just exhausted," Groves said. "And I could use a drink."

Gillette emphatically agreed, and soon the two lieutenants were seated across from each other in a nearby tavern. Gillette was on his third drink before Groves even finished his first. The room was full and almost crowded with officers of both the navy and the EITC, as well as a few marines. The atmosphere was noisy, but not unruly.

Gillette talked about the pursuit and the hurricane, and Groves finally heard an account of the disastrous voyage, even if it was incomplete. Groves suspected that many of the holes in Gillette's memory of the _Dauntless's_ demise were feigned, but he said nothing, trusting that Gillette was only keeping back details that were better left unspoken. Nearly half the crew had drowned that night, and many others had died later of injuries. From what Gillette revealed, with a hard, haunted look in his eyes, it was a miracle anyone had survived.

Gillette stopped suddenly and stared down at the glass on the table in front of him. He turned it around with both hands, clearly fighting some internal battle, perhaps against the hurricane again. Groves had to force himself not to jump in and impatiently press for more. Gillette had very carefully avoided any mention of Norrington, and Groves suspected he was now struggling with how to broach the subject.

"I knew something wasn't right," Gillette finally said. "Even from the first day out, I knew something wasn't right. The Commodore - he wasn't himself. Like you said." He paused and finished his drink. "It was early in the morning, just moments before we saw a bit of the sunrise, I think, and raining the hardest I'd ever seen. I had to cling to the railing not to be blown over by the wind and the Commodore had to shout at me from a foot away just so I could hear him. Surely he knew we wouldn't make it through that hurricane."

"Didn't anyone say anything to him?" Groves asked.

"Of course we did. But we could hardly refuse him, could we? I can't argue with him the way you do. Especially..." Gillette hesitated. He gripped his empty glass so tightly his hand shook and Groves worried the glass might shatter. "I've never been afraid of him before," Gillette said.

"What did he say?" Groves asked.

"That he'd come this far and he'd be damned if Sparrow made a fool of him again," Gillette replied. He refilled his glass again.

Groves felt helpless. The officers had often known the intentions and reasons behind Norrington's orders. If not, they knew the man well enough to trust him anyway. Norrington was confident and sometimes demanding, always knowing what he wanted and expecting nothing short of excellence out of his men, but he was never so frightening that the lieutenants were afraid to speak to him. Especially not those who were considered his friends. Groves could hardly stand to think of Norrington the way Gillette described.

"Sparrow!" Gillette shouted, slamming his glass down on the table. "Jack Sparrow!"

Groves frowned, startled by the outburst.

"This is all his fault!"

"How can you possibly - "

"We let him go!" Gillette cried. "Gave him _one day's head start._ And look where that got us. The middle of a bloody hurricane, that's where!"

"Stop it," Groves said. "You're drunk."

"And I'll be even drunker before the night's over." Gillette took a long swallow from his glass, then set it down heavily. "God, if I'd only known... I'd have insisted the Commodore do something. I'd have gone after Sparrow myself! If I ever see that man again..."

"Stop," Groves ordered. He stood up. "That's enough. We're leaving." He took Gillette by the arm and dragged him up out of his chair.

"I can walk," Gillette muttered, shaking Groves off, and he made his way to the door, occasionally steadying himself on a table or the back of a chair.

Groves frowned back at the table, trying to remember just how many drinks Gillette had had, but then just followed Gillette out of the tavern.

Night had fallen. Gillette stood in the street, staring despondently through the darkness towards the ocean. For a moment Groves just stood with him, listening to the sounds of the surf and breathing in the sweet night air. Then Gillette swayed, forcing Groves to catch him.

"You should be in bed," Groves said. "I'm walking you home."

Gillette didn't resist, and the two men walked silently across the short distance to Gillette's home. Groves lingered in the street just long enough to be sure his friend made it inside, then he turned and walked sullenly towards his own home.

Once he was home, Groves tried to act as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Emma and Gregory were glad to see him home safely after so many weeks at sea. Groves was glad to see them, too, but he didn't want to be pestered with questions for which he had no answers, either. So he offered his best attempt at a smile, told them that Gillette was alive and back in Port Royal for the sake of bringing good news, then said he was tired and just wanted to go to sleep.

Groves thought his sister suspected there was something he wasn't telling, but he was grateful that she let it be. He was perplexed enough as it was, without trying to explain everything to her. He didn't know whether he should be glad or concerned that Norrington was back. Groves fervently hoped that if he just kept quiet and did as he was told, Lord Beckett would soon have what he wanted and things would get better. But something in the back of his mind told him that they wouldn't. The old life was gone, and not even Norrington's return could bring it back. It hadn't even brought Norrington back.


	14. Warrants and Arrests

**PART THREE**

* * *

**Warrants and Arrests**

The day after Norrington's return, Lord Beckett began issuing arrest warrants. The arrests were to be made quickly, and Groves found his days occupied by leading groups of marines through the streets of Port Royal, arresting those he had once protected. It seemed that no one was safe, as anyone suspected of ever sympathizing with anyone suspected of piracy was locked up as if they themselves were thieves and murderers.

Norrington was made an Admiral. Groves longed for an opportunity to speak with him, even for a moment, but every time he got close, Norrington defaulted to formalities and spoke only of official matters, then quickly disappeared. It was discouraging to know that a man who had once been his friend was now avoiding him. Norrington received a new uniform to go with his new rank, a reminder to those who had known him that though the man was restored to dignity and a position of command, something was different now.

Rumors spread quickly and wildly. Townspeople, soldiers, and even some of the officers speculated that Lord Beckett wanted to rule the world. There were rumors that he was secretly working with a secret pirate council known as the Brethren Court. Other rumors said Beckett wanted the Brethren Court dead. Still others claimed that there was no Brethren Court, that Lord Beckett had invented it to convince the King to put him in charge of Port Royal. Some even claimed that Beckett had supernatural powers, was a god, or was using some secret magic in order to force the pirates into submission.

Groves knew better. Whatever deal Norrington had made with Beckett had certainly put Beckett in a fine mood. He was no longer searching for the chest. For the first time, there was fire in Lord Beckett's icy stare, a fire that burned with crazed desire, obsessively blazing nearly out of control. It was no secret that the man had ambitious goals. He spoke of the end of piracy and the beginning of a new era. He sent ships all around the world, searching for members of the mysterious Brethren Court. And most alarming of all, he claimed to possess the heart of Davy Jones. Groves had never heard him speak of it directly, but Beckett had dropped many pointed hints. He claimed that he now commanded the Captain of the _Flying Dutchman, _the god-man who controlled the seas.

Groves spent as little time in Beckett's presence as possible. He was reluctant to believe the rumors, but not as reluctant as he would have been once. After all, he had seen Barbossa's crew walk around like immortal skeletons in the moonlight, victims of an ancient curse. It all sounded crazy, Groves knew. Sometimes he wondered if he had lost his mind, but then he would see the obsessive confidence in Beckett's eyes, and he knew that it was this untouchable tyrant who was truly cursed with madness. And Beckett's curse was slowly spreading to everyone in Port Royal.

Groves banged on the door of a small residence on the edge of town, clutching yet another arrest warrant. After a moment the door opened calmly and a man stood in the doorway. He gazed blankly at Groves for a moment, and then glanced past the lieutenant, studying each of the marines as if counting them. He was tall, and seemed taller by the way he held himself rigidly erect. His aging face was darkened and weathered, the face of a sailor. Groves drew in a sharp breath and glanced back down at the warrant. Suddenly he recognized the name John Wyatt. This man had been in the Navy.

"Yes?" Wyatt said.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Wyatt," Groves began. "Or, Lieutenant Wyatt, I believe."

Wyatt offered a nod of confirmation, waiting calmly for more.

"I regret to inform you that..." Groves hesitated. This man had been a Lieutenant in the Navy for years. Could he really be under arrest? Groves looked down at the paper in his hands, checking the name on the warrant, even though he knew he hadn't misread it. "Sir, I have a warrant for your arrest..."

"Ah," Wyatt said. "For aiding those convicted of piracy, if I am not mistaken."

"Yes," Groves said, a bit surprised at the man's casual demeanor. "I have the paper here, if you'd like to see it."

Wyatt smiled slightly. "That won't be necessary." He stepped across the small dwelling's threshold, neatly closing the door and locking it behind him. "I don't intend to make any fuss." He walked with a pronounced limp, aided by a crude wooden cane.

"There must be a mistake," Groves said. "Surely Lord Beckett made a mistake when he put your name on that warrant. I'll look into it myself."

"No need," Wyatt assured him. "Lord Beckett doesn't make mistakes."

Groves stared at the retired navy man for a long moment, then he nodded in resignation and led Wyatt back to the cart that carried the prisoners. It was nearly full, and out of deference to a man he considered a comrade, Groves allowed Wyatt to sit next to him on the front bench next to the driver. As the cart made its way back towards the fort, Groves looked over at Wyatt and asked, "You admit to the charges?"

"I do," Wyatt replied, resolutely. "In fact, I embrace them."

"But, Sir, aiding and conspiring with pirates?"

"Not pirates. Those convicted of piracy."

Then Groves understood. He drew in a breath and nodded slowly. "Those wrongly convicted."

"Surely you knew that many of these people are innocent, or at least mostly innocent, of these heinous charges Beckett has issued."

Groves didn't reply.

"I arranged safe passage for seven men and their families before I was caught by a couple of Beckett's spies," Wyatt said. "And just this morning I sent two more on their way." He smiled slightly. "I was beginning to wonder when you'd come to arrest me."

Groves didn't know what to say. He stared down at his boots and wished for courage like Wyatt's. Courage to do right by doing wrong, and risking himself in the process. Not only himself, Groves thought. "I'd send you away if I thought it wouldn't get my sister killed."

Wyatt looked over at Groves with brooding dark blue eyes that had earned their wisdom from years of service. "I don't envy you," he said. "Me, I have no one left. My wife died years ago, and my sons have all gone their own ways. But I see what men like you must endure, and I don't know how you sleep at night."

Groves shook his head. "I don't," he said. He sighed wearily, but felt a small weight lift off his chest at having admitted his restless nights to someone. He glanced back over at Wyatt and tried to change the subject. "You served with Admiral Norrington, if I'm not mistaken."

"When he was Captain Norrington." Wyatt's blue eyes were suddenly unhappy. "He was a different man then. I can't imagine what he's been through to change him into what he is now. A perfect recreation of what he used to be."

The cart arrived at the fort, and the marines began escorting the prisoners to the jail. Groves slowly climbed off the bench behind Wyatt, reluctant to jail the man, but knowing he had no choice. He led Wyatt towards the prison, where they were briefly intercepted by an officer of the Company, one of the many who had arrived with Beckett's takeover.

"Who's this?" one asked.

Groves produced the warrant. "John Wyatt," he answered.

"And why isn't he bound? Or shackled?"

"I didn't think him much of a flight risk."

The man glanced down at Wyatt's bad leg, and the cane.

"Old battle injury," Wyatt said. "Ended my navy career."

"You were in the navy?"

Before Wyatt could answer, Admiral Norrington appeared in the doorway to the prison. "I'll take it from here," Norrington said, dismissing the officer. Then he just stood for a moment and looked at both Groves and Wyatt, who both watched the Admiral and waited for him to speak again. "John," he said, acknowledging Wyatt.

"Admiral," Wyatt replied.

"Mr. Groves, I'll escort Mr. Wyatt. I'm sure you have other duties."

Groves met Norrington's gaze for a moment, then nodded. He glanced over at Wyatt one last time.

"Keep yourself out of trouble," Wyatt said. "I have a feeling things are going to get worse around here before they get better, but even the worst times don't last forever."

Groves nodded, still hesitant to leave, and met Norrington's eyes.

"He's right, Lieutenant," Norrington said. For a moment the mask of formality and ceremony faltered, just slightly. There was a weary bitterness in the Admiral's eyes. "It's going to get worse."

* * *

Lieutenant Wyatt appears in my oneshot _State of Mind. _Reviews and feedback are appreciated!


	15. Lord Beckett's Gallows

**Lord Beckett's Gallows**

Groves looked up at the gallows and felt his stomach turn over. For the fifth day in a row, executions had started at dawn. Now noon had passed, and the angry afternoon sun seemed to be issuing its own judgment upon the inhabitants of Port Royal. Groves shielded his eyes and nodded for the executioner to proceed with the next set of prisoners. He wished for a cloud to hide the sun.

A line of prisoners with shackled feet walked up the wooden steps to the gallows. Groves just looked at the ground, listening to the sounds of rattling chains and crying and begging. Usually hangings didn't upset him. Usually the condemned deserved their punishment.

"Oh, God," said Lieutenant Peck, next to him.

Groves looked up. The prisoners stood in front of the nooses, all in various states of shock or terror. In the middle stood a boy, half the size of a man, quietly turning a coin over and over in his hands as he stared up at the rope above his head.

"I fear anyone who can watch this and feel no pity for his fellow man," Peck continued.

Groves didn't say anything. He just nodded, and wiped the sweat out of his eyes. His temples were starting to throb, but there was no relief in sight, either from the heat or from the hideous murders he was being forced to witness. He remembered standing right where he was standing now, next to Captain Norrington, watching men hanged for piracy. He remembered the fire that would light behind Norrington's eyes every time the trap door fell, seeing justice triumph over anarchy. He remembered the way Norringon would look at the ground in remorse when he heard the prisoner pronounced dead, just for a second, acknowledging that a life had been taken.

A small noise from the gallows caught the lieutenant's attention, and he squinted through the afternoon haze, trying to make out the source of the sound. Someone was singing. The youngest prisoner, the boy, was standing on a barrel so his neck would reach the rope, and he was singing. The condemned man at the end of the gallows joined in, the same song.

"They're singing," Peck remarked, glancing over at Groves.

Groves just nodded and stared at the line of prisoners as more and more of them joined in, singing a strange song he had never heard before. All of them, singing together, the same words of the same song. Groves felt a chill at the base of his neck that didn't come from a breeze. There was no breeze. As the prisoners sang they grew louder, uniting with each other through their voices. The men with their bayonets backed away from the line of condemned men and women waiting their turn, clearly uncomfortable with the near-rebellion.

Groves turned and hurried towards the place where Lord Beckett sat in the shade with his back to the prisoners. Lieutenant Peck followed, throwing a nervous glance over his shoulder as the swell of condemned voices continued to grow.

"Lord Beckett," Groves said, trying to keep the strain out of his voice. "They've started to sing."

For a moment Beckett didn't react, as if he hadn't heard, but Groves knew better than to repeat himself. Beckett held a coin in one hand, and he turned it around in his fingers. A corner of the man's pale mouth twitched with pleasure. "Finally."

Groves glanced over at Peck, wondering if Beckett had more to say, but again, not daring to ask.

After a moment, Beckett stood up, straightened his coat, then turned around to face the two lieutenants. "Try to finish this up before sundown," he said, as if hanging hundreds of people were simply an annoying task that had to be completed. "The _Endeavour_ leaves at dawn."

Groves stared at the two dark eyes that couldn't even see the pain they were inflicting. He knew he should be responding, assuring Beckett that it would be done, but instead he was frozen by the man's unfeeling and expressionless features.

"Of course, Lord Beckett," Peck said, quickly stepping in when Groves failed to answer.

Then Peck turned to leave, and Groves followed, not wanting to spend one minute longer than was necessary in Lord Beckett's presence. He glanced towards the gallows, and saw bodies hanging from ropes. The boy's was one of them. Groves was suddenly dizzy. He stopped walking and leaned against the wall of the fort. The voices of the singing prisoners sounded like they were underwater.

Peck stopped and looked back at Groves. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Groves closed his eyes and put his hand to his head. "I think I need to sit down."

Peck took his arm. "Let's find some shade," he said, and led Groves around a corner to where a walkway overhead blocked out the sun.

Groves sat down on a set of stone steps and put his head in his hands, trying to block out the sound of the singing prisoners and their clanking chains. Lieutenant Peck's voice sounded like it was coming from far away, saying something about getting water, but the lieutenant's footsteps sounded almost like cannon fire. Groves cradled his head and drew in deep breaths, trying to concentrate on the fresh air and the cold stone underneath his legs.

"Lieutenant?"

Groves looked up. "Admiral," he said, seeing Admiral Norrington standing in front of him. Groves started to push himself up off the steps, wondering with mild alarm just how long the Admiral had been standing there.

"Don't get up," Norrington said. He handed Groves a canteen. "I just spoke with Lieutenant Peck. Are you all right?"

Groves hesitated, then decided not to answer the obvious question. He sat back against the stone wall and sipped water from the canteen. Norrington clasped his hands behind his back and didn't look at Groves. He gazed towards the fort courtyard for a moment, where the gallows were being prepared for another set of prisoners, then he just stared down at his feet.

Groves swallowed the last of the water and set the empty canteen on the ground. "Can I ask you something?"

Norrington threw him a glance, hesitantly offering permission.

Groves also hesitated for a moment, then decided it was best if he just said plainly what was on his mind. "What does Lord Beckett want?"

Norrington looked away.

"Surely you know. What has he told you?"

"I'm sorry," Norrington said, still refusing to meet the lieutenant's eyes. "But you're better off not knowing."

Groves sighed and rested his head against the cool stone wall, too exhausted to argue.

The prisoners' singing, which had been strong and steady, faltered, then tapered off suddenly into an eerie hush. Groves glanced up at Norrington and frowned slightly, wondering why the prisoners had stopped their song. Norrington stood rigid, watching the activity in the courtyard.

"What?" Groves asked.

Norrington didn't speak.

A shout came from the direction of the gallows.

"Tyrant!" a man cried.

Groves leaned forward so that he could look around the wall at the commotion. A tall man stood on the platform, a step in front of the other condemned. He leaned on a cane with one hand, and with the other he pointed out over the crowd. Groves recognized Lieutenant Wyatt.

"That man you serve is a tyrant!" Wyatt shouted. "And a murderer. Murderer!"

An anxious murmur swept through the gathered crowd.

"Cutler Beckett, you're a coward! You're a coward and a tyrant, and you won't win!"

The executioner slipped the noose over Wyatt's head.

"Stand up to him!" Wyatt said, ignoring the rope around his neck. "Fight back, all of you! I won't live to see Lord Beckett's defeat, but I want the world to know that I, Lieutenant John Wyatt of His Majesty's Navy, had no part in this wicked regime, and if I must hang as a pirate to prove it, then so be it."

The executioner kicked Wyatt's cane away, and Wyatt fell until the rope caught him. Groves looked away. He refused to watch the lieutenant swing. Norrington turned away as well, slowly. His face was a shade paler than before and his eyes were haunted.

Groves just stared at the ground in front of him, feeling ill, and dreading the thought of watching the rest of the prisoners hang. There was enough blood on his hands as it was. For a moment, Groves envied Wyatt, hanged like a common criminal, but dead with his honor intact.

"You don't look well," Norrington said, studying Groves' face. There was concern in the Admiral's eyes, but something else, too. Desperation, maybe, and just a touch of defiance. "I'm sending you home. I'll tell Lord Beckett you were taken ill with the heat."

"Thank you," Groves said. Any other day he would have been ashamed of the sickness, implored the Admiral to keep it quiet, and insisted on continuing with his duties. But now he was just grateful for any escape from the heat and death which surely rivaled that of hell itself.


	16. Family

**Family**

"Are you feeling any better?"

Groves pulled off the cloth that covered his eyes and sat up. "I'm all right," he said, giving his sister a reassuring smile.

Emma didn't seem convinced. "You still look a little pale." She handed him a glass of brandy.

The little house's front door opened, and Emma's husband entered, distracting Emma from pestering her brother. Emma met Gregory at the door and greeted him with a smile and a kiss. Groves quietly sipped his brandy, noting that this brief moment was the only happiness he had seen all day. Lord Beckett's passive satisfaction didn't count.

Gregory glanced past Emma to where Groves sat on the sofa. "Shouldn't you be up at the fort? From the commotion I heard it sounds like they need all the help they can get."

"I was sent home," Groves replied.

"Yes, after he nearly fainted," Emma added.

"Fainted?" Gregory raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Hangings making you squeamish, Lieutenant?"

"I did not faint," Groves argued. That was not a rumor he wanted floating around. "And I don't know what came over me. The heat, I suppose."

"That, and you hadn't eaten anything since before dawn this morning," Emma said.

Groves sighed. "It's nothing. Just a brief dizzy spell. I feel fine."

Gregory seemed satisfied, and he looked back to his wife. "I've got to finish writing that letter to my brother," he told her. "I'll be at my desk."

"You're not writing anything treasonous, are you?" Groves said.

Gregory frowned. "Treasonous?"

"You can't be too careful," Groves continued. "Lord Beckett's got eyes everywhere. If you say anything he doesn't like..."

Emma sat down next to her brother and gently felt his forehead, frowning slightly with concern and mild scolding. Her brother had been distraught when he heard about the loss of the _Dauntless_, and upset by Lord Beckett's arrival and subsequent takeover, but ever since he had returned from his most recent voyage he hadn't been himself. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen him smile, and it seemed that his usual easygoing demeanor was replaced by a tense anxiety.

"Theodore, what's going on out there?" Emma finally asked.

Gregory put his hands in his pockets and waited for the lieutenant's response.

"I know it's not the heat that's bothering you," Emma added.

Groves stared down into his glass. "Not only that," he admitted.

"Is it the hangings?"

"I don't know." He sighed and took another drink of the brandy. "Lord Beckett preaches about the end of piracy and the dawn of a new age. And God knows we'd all be better off without fear of our ships being attacked and plundered. Not to mention piracy is completely illegal. And isn't that what I've worked for all these years? The end of piracy?"

"What, then?"

"Something about all this just feels wrong," Groves stated, and was surprised by the relief he felt at having admitted it out loud. He remembered a time not too long ago when everything made sense, when pirates were always bad and everyone who enforced the law was good. "No trials. No warrants. No evidence. Just arrests and hangings."

Emma said nothing, listening quietly while he was willing to talk, but a wrinkle of concern creased her forehead. She glanced over at Gregory. He was frowning, too, and also listening closely.

Groves sighed and stared down at his glass. "I'm sorry," he said. He looked over at his sister. "Emma, I'm sorry for dragging you into this. Both of you. I suppose Lord Beckett might allow the two of you a bit of leniency, seeing as you're my family and I work for him, but... But if I make one mistake, I'm afraid that..." Groves stopped. He was thinking that Beckett would take Emma and Gregory, lock them up, and sentence them to hang as leverage. But he didn't want to say it out loud. He finished his drink instead.

"You're afraid that...?" Gregory prompted.

Groves shook his head and said nothing. He stared down into the empty glass. "He hanged Lieutenant Wyatt today."

Emma drew in a sharp breath of surprise. "Oh no," she said. "Not him."

Groves nodded, still looking down at the glass in his hands. "And a boy, no more than twelve," he continued, though he didn't know why. Surely Emma and Gregory had no need to hear about such things, but once he had started talking, he found it hard to stop. "Last week he had Lieutenant Marsh arrested for refusing to arrest a pregnant woman."

"He can do that?"

"He's the head of the entire East India Trading Company. He controls the Governor. He can do whatever he damn well pleases." Groves stopped suddenly, hearing how bitter his words sounded. "I'm sorry," he said. "But that's the truth."

The crease in Emma's forehead deepened as she nodded slowly, seeing the distress in her brother's face. Gregory glanced towards the house's front window towards the outside world, without seeing it. His mind was somewhere else for a moment, then he looked back at Groves and asked, "What does Norrington say?"

Groves sighed. "He said the less I knew the better." He stared down at the empty glass, turning it in his hands. "In any case, the _Endeavour_ is leaving tomorrow at dawn."

"And you with it?" Emma asked.

Groves nodded.

"Where are you going?"

"Beckett didn't say."

Emma was silent. She looked up at Gregory and he looked back at her, and they held each other's gaze for a long moment.

Groves noticed their glance. "What?" he asked, looking from his sister to her husband. "What is it?"

"I'm going to finish that letter now," Gregory said. "Don't worry. Only family news."

Groves watched his brother-in-law leave, then looked at Emma. She suddenly wouldn't meet his eyes, and he knew there was something she hadn't told him. He just watched her, frowning slightly, and waited, knowing that she had sent Gregory away so she could speak to her brother alone. He set his empty glass down on the floor, then faced his sister. "Emma, what is it?"

When Emma finally looked at him, her eyes were moist with happiness. "Teddy," she said, "I'm pregnant."

Groves just looked at his sister for a moment, letting her words sink in while he watched her face practically glow with joy. Seeing his sister so happy, Groves forgot about everything else. He broke into a smile, his first in months, and pulled Emma into an embrace. There was still happiness in the world after all.

* * *

If you read the original oneshot, you'll recognize some of this. It was altered a bit to fit into the larger narrative. Feedback is always appreciated! Thanks for reading!


	17. Faults

**Faults**

Groves waited outside Lord Beckett's cabin. He thought maybe it was Emma's good news that had prompted the desire to speak with Norrington, or at least given him the strength to pursue an audience with the Admiral. He had seen Norrington enter Beckett's cabin some minutes ago, and knew the Admiral would have to pass by when he left it.

Whatever Beckett had wanted didn't take long, and Norrington soon emerged from the cabin. He looked troubled and preoccupied, so much that Groves almost decided to save his questions for later, but then he knew he might not get another chance. Groves stepped towards Norrington, blocking his path.

The Admiral glanced up. "Lieutenant," he said, offering a slight nod. Then he looked away and kept walking.

Groves blocked him again. "No. We have to talk."

Norrington hesitated. He looked at Groves for a moment, holding the lieutenant's hard gaze, then glanced away and nodded.

They went up to the deck, to the railing, looking out to sea so that only the waves would hear what they said. The afternoon was overcast. The crew of the _Endeavour_ was working quietly and efficiently, making themselves as invisible as possible and speaking only when necessary. A few of them tossed guarded looks over towards the two officers, but none ventured close enough to overhear.

"What is it you want to speak to me about?" Norrington asked, standing next to the lieutenant but looking straight ahead.

Groves faced Norrington. "I want you to look me in the eye and tell me what's going on around here," he demanded. "I don't want any more excuses. I want to know the truth, and I want to hear it from you. We used to be friends, James. We used to speak to each other like human beings. None of this fake formality and secrecy. After all we've been through together, don't you think I deserve some sort of explanation?"

Norrington was silent for a long moment. "I've let you down," he finally said. "And I'm sorry. I suppose I've been keeping my distance because I didn't want to involve you in the mistakes I've made. I never meant to cause you any grief."

"For God's sake, James, what unforgivable sin could you have possibly committed?"

Norrington glanced down at the sword he held in his left hand. "Aptly spoken, Lieutenant."

Groves finally noticed the sword in the Admiral's hand. It was the ceremonial weapon Norrington had received at his promotion to Commodore. Though he had never spoken of it, Groves knew Norrington felt that the sword was more than just a weapon, and regarded it with an uncharacteristic amount of sentiment for a man who cared little for material possessions. He had worn it proudly, until his resignation following the disastrous loss of the _Dauntless. _Groves hesitated, watching Norrington hold the weapon awkwardly, as if the man and his weapon were no longer one with each other.

"Your sword," Groves said, letting some of his anger dissolve.

"Yes," Norrington replied. He looked up and faced the lieutenant. "Lord Beckett thought I ought to have it back."

"Do you trust him?"

"Trust him?" Norrington repeated. He offered a trace of his own bitter smile, as if the thought of trusting Cutler Beckett were amusing. "Hardly," he said. "I don't like him, either."

"But you do work for him."

"So do you," Norrington replied.

Groves scowled. "Do I have a choice?"

"You always have a choice, Lieutenant. It may not always be a pleasant one, but you always have the power to choose."

"Choose between what? I must either obey this tyrant or risk endangering the people I love most. What kind of choice is that?"

"Like I said, the alternatives may not be pleasant. Lieutenant Wyatt's choice ended in death."

Groves looked out at the water without seeing it. Instead he was seeing the gallows again, hearing the prisoners' chains rattle, and watching Beckett toying with his piece of eight, turning it in his hand as if it were the key to some secret madness. "What does Lord Beckett want?" Groves asked.

Norrington hesitated.

"You seem to be his favorite," Groves insisted, trying not to let his words sound like the accusation they were. "Surely you've heard something."

"He possesses the heart of Davy Jones," Norrington said. "With it, he controls the man who rules the seas. He believes the pirates are gathering a war council, and he plans to discover their location and destroy them all at once, using the _Flying Dutchman_ as his flagship."

Groves let out a long breath and rubbed the railing until splinters cut into his palms. The rumors that Beckett possessed the still-beating heart of the legend Davy Jones had seemed outlandish at first. Then Groves had looked into Beckett's cold eyes, and thought they must be windows to an unforgiving and uncompromising soul, or lack thereof. Lord Beckett's eyes were proof that evil forces truly did exist. The pirates' singing and Beckett's dark satisfaction had confirmed it. Norrington had simply restated the truth Groves didn't want to believe. The misery and despair had not been a result of Beckett's efforts to achieve his goal. Beckett had driven the people to desperation on purpose.

"It was all a charade," Groves realized. "He never cared about any of those people. He just wanted the pirate lords to meet."

"We can only hope it will stop once he's destroyed the brethren court."

Groves shook his head. "It won't matter. We've already spilled innocent blood."

Norrington didn't respond. Groves stared down at the railing, thinking of Lieutenant Wyatt's shouts from the gallows. If only there were more like him, who were willing to stand up to Beckett and fight to protect the innocent. Groves impulsively thought of begging Norrington to join him in leading a revolution, but then he thought of Emma. He couldn't put her in danger. He couldn't put her child in danger.

When Groves looked up again, Norrington had tied the sword onto his belt and was now standing with his hands behind his back, just staring out at the horizon. He was absorbed in his own thoughts, as he often was, but this time it seemed as if he were lost in a dark labyrinth.

"How did Beckett get the heart?" Groves asked, giving in to his own morbid curiosity. "There was never any word of the chest. At least, not until he'd summoned Davy Jones. And Jones certainly didn't give up his own heart."

"No," Norrington said.

"Then who - " Groves stopped suddenly and met Norrington's eyes. "My God. That's the deal you made with Beckett."

"Yes," Norrington replied, looking away. "My unforgivable transgression."

"You gave him Jones' heart."

"I got my life back."

Groves stared in his friend in disbelief and disappointment. He'd always known Norrington as an honorable man who fought his way to the top the hard way, and made it. "Is this really the life you want?"

Norrington looked out over the water. "It's all I have," he said. "I might as well make the most of it."

Groves just looked at Norrington, feeling frozen, and trying to keep himself from thinking the terrible thoughts that tried to invade his mind. The crisp Admiral's uniform and the shiny blade claimed honor for the man who wore them, but now Groves knew that honor was false and tainted. He had demanded the truth, and now he wished for ignorance.

Norrington faced him again. The Admiral's eyes were firm and resolute, bearing no traces of defeat, but they were also bitter and at the same time, resigned to the path they saw before them. "I fear the world is no longer black and white," Norrington said, speaking like the friend and leader he had once been. "But you've never really cared much for those sort of rules. Don't lose that part of yourself." He paused for a moment and glanced past Groves to the crew working about the deck. "These men will look to you, Theodore, when they finally see Beckett for what he really is. When that moment comes, don't let them down."


	18. Justice

**Justice**

A day later, Groves was glad he had spoken to Admiral Norrington when he did. Beckett summoned the _Flying Dutchman_ the following afternoon so that he could express his displeasure with Davy Jones' method of interrogating prisoners, and then ordered that the _Dutchman_ be occupied by a number of his own soldiers, including Admiral Norrington. The chest holding Jones' heart was also brought on board the _Dutchman_, to ensure Jones' cooperation.

Groves stood on the deck of the _Endeavour_ with Lieutenant Peck and watched the _Dutchman. _The distance between the two ships was too great for the actual exchange to be seen, but Groves caught a glimpse of the _Dutchman's _captain and was grateful he had stayed behind. Jones looked like a man cursed with supernatural powers who did not take kindly to being bullied.

Beckett returned to the _Endeavour_ and wiped his hands on a handkerchief, as if they had been dirtied simply by their proximity to Davy Jones and his cursed ship. He glanced around the deck for a moment, then meticulously folded the cloth and slid it back into his pocket before walking calmly, but purposefully, over to where Groves stood.

"I think that ought to teach Jones his place," Beckett commented. "It's always important that one knows his place in the world, don't you think, Lieutenant?"

Groves just glanced out towards the _Flying Dutchman_ and didn't respond.

"In any case," Beckett continued, unfazed by the lieutenant's silence, "we are to set sail immediately. I've already given the helmsman our heading, so let's not waste any more time. We will rendezvous with the fleet later this afternoon. Hopefully one of the boats will have picked up some information as to the whereabouts of our old friend Jack Sparrow. The pirate lords are gathering. I want to know where."

Beckett walked away, leaving the two lieutenants to stare after him.

"What do you suppose he meant by that?" Lieutenant Peck asked.

Groves didn't have to suppose, but he decided not to tell Peck anything. Not yet. If Peck didn't already know, he was better off. He would find out soon enough anyway. There was no sense making the man nervous, so Groves just shrugged and shook his head. The _Flying Dutchman_ vanished into the hazy horizon.

* * *

Groves passed by the longboats, then stopped. He frowned. One of the boats was missing. He turned back and counted them, thinking that surely he was imagining things. It was long after dark, and he hadn't seen or heard anyone leaving the ship, but after counting twice, it was obvious that one of the longboats was gone. Groves went to the railing and peered down at the water, straining through the darkness looking for any sign of the missing boat.

The night sky was overcast, hiding the crescent moon behind clouds. There was a significant breeze, though, so Groves hoped the moonlight would be visible soon. He could only see the vague movements of the waves, which he felt more than he actually saw, and he could hear the wind whipping through the ship's sails.

Groves was so lost in concentration that he might not have recognized the gunshot for what it was if he hadn't seen the flash of a pistol. For a second, there was just enough light for Groves to see a man standing in a longboat with a raised pistol. A moment later there was a splash, and then only the cold stillness of the dark, gently churning ocean.

Groves stared out towards the place where the shot had been, feeling as if the air had frozen inside his lungs and feeling his pulse racing, pounding in his chest and in his head. He thought it miraculous that he heard the gentle splashing of oars as the longboat made its way back towards the ship, and that he had the presence of mind to move away from the railing, out of sight. He hoped he hadn't been seen by whoever was in the boat. Part of him also hoped he was imagining things, because his mind was telling him that he had just witnessed a murder.

He ducked under a staircase and watched as Mr. Mercer, Beckett's right-hand man, climbed up onto the deck, then pulled the longboat up after himself. Groves was impressed in spite of himself that the man could handle the boat and the winch by himself, in the dark, without making any sound at all. When the boat was secured back in its proper location, as if it had never been gone at all, Mercer glanced briefly around the deck, then disappeared below.

Groves waited behind the stairs a few minutes longer after Mercer had disappeared, wanting to kick himself for hiding in the shadows like an idiot, but needing the time to catch his breath. He went down towards his cabin, oblivious to anything except the image of Mercer, illuminated by the pistol flash, pointing a gun at an unknown person in the shadows just beyond the brief explosion of light. Groves was so preoccupied that he didn't see Lieutenant Peck until it was too late to avoid a collision in the narrow hallway.

"Sorry, Lieutenant," Groves said. "My mind was elsewhere."

"Obviously," Peck replied. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Groves hesitated, then just slipped past the other lieutenant and kept walking.

Peck turned around and followed him. "What is it?" he insisted.

"Nothing," Groves said, automatically, then paused outside his cabin. "Actually, it's not nothing, but..." He glanced around the dark corridor, suddenly aware that it would not be wise to speak freely about what he had seen, and that he was not particularly eager to burden Peck with everything he knew. "It's nothing," he concluded, then went into the cabin.

Peck followed. "You're not making any sense."

Groves was already pouring himself a glass of brandy.

Peck closed the cabin door and crossed the room. "Something's got you spooked."

"Someone's been murdered," Groves blurted, turning to face the other lieutenant.

"Murdered?" Peck's eyes widened, then slid into a frown. "Who's been murdered?"

"I don't know," Groves said. "I noticed one of the boats missing, and I looked out over the railing to see where it could have gone. There was a gunshot, and a splash like a body hitting the water. Then Mr. Mercer brought the boat back."

Peck shook his head slowly, denying it. "No, that's not possible. Why would Mr. Mercer want to kill anyone?"

"How should I know? Besides, Lord Beckett must have ordered him to do it."

"But who would Lord Beckett want to - " Peck stopped, his face suddenly pale and his eyes unfocused as his mind was yanked momentarily away. "Oh dear God," he said, sounding just slightly out of breath. "The Governor isn't going to England, is he?"

Groves drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out. It made perfect sense. The _Endeavour_ had joined a number of ships from the armada for the sake of exchanging information, but Lord Beckett had also made an offhand statement about the Governor being taken to England for his own safety. Groves hadn't thought anything of it at the time, when he was busy with other things, but now he knew it was absurd to think Beckett had ever been, or ever would be, concerned about Governor Swann's safety. If the Governor really was going to England, it was most likely to get him out of the way, to keep him from asking too many questions and getting in the way of the plan to destroy all traces of piracy. But to send the Governor to England, Beckett would have to sacrifice one of his ships. Much too costly for a man like Lord Beckett, who cared nothing for anyone but himself and his own power, especially when bullets were so cheap.

"No," Groves said, in response to Peck's question. "I don't think he is." He watched the other man's face slip from confusion into shock, and it pained him to watch Peck realize what this all meant. That Lord Beckett was not only a ruthless judge who cared nothing for those he considered criminals, but also a murderer and a tyrant, and very dangerous.

Peck grimaced and steadied himself on the back of a chair. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"No, you're not," Groves said, though he was also feeling a little queasy. He guided Peck into the chair and handed him the glass of brandy. "Sit down, take a breath, and have a drink. You're going to be fine. We both are. We've just got to keep our heads."

Peck sipped the brandy. "Keep our heads," he repeated.

Groves sighed. "You know what I mean."

"We can't just let them get away with this," Peck insisted. "Surely not even Lord Beckett is above the law."

Groves laughed. "He is the law."

"But will no one bring him to justice?"

Groves watched the other man's face and young, desperate eyes, longing for a simple answer. The law used to divide people into good and bad, and justice meant that the good punished the bad. But in this twisted new world, where good and bad didn't mean the things they used to, what was justice? One thing was certain: Lord Beckett was an evil man, and if the good people either couldn't or wouldn't stop him, then it was up to those who were on the wrong side of the law to bring him to justice.

"The pirates," Groves said. "They're our only hope."

* * *

It's probably not entirely within canon that Groves knew about the Governor's murder... but it worked best for this story that he did. Feedback is appreciated!


	19. Sides

**Sides**

When the _Endeavour _reached the _Black Pearl_, Sao Feng and his crew had already subdued Jack Sparrow and his mismatched crew. The _Endeavour _dropped her anchor and Groves looked out at the men on the decks of the other two ships. They all looked suspicious, casting sideways frowns at the other crews and even at the men standing next to them. Groves didn't blame them. He wouldn't have trusted any of them either.

Jack Sparrow was brought aboard the _Endeavour_ for a private meeting with Lord Beckett. The pirate disappeared into Beckett's cabin, and his escorts positioned themselves outside the cabin door, ready to intervene on the meeting if necessary, but far enough out of the way that there was no risk that they would overhear. That was as much for Beckett's benefit as for their own safety, Groves thought. He and Peck had sworn to each other that they would never mention their suspicions about Governor Swann's disappearance to anyone, not while Beckett still breathed the earth's air. Groves thought he would be relieved if Cutler Beckett ever met his demise, and though he thought it was probably a sin to wish for what could only come about in the event of a man's death, he longed for a time when all this madness was left forgotten in the past.

The pirates were squabbling on the deck of the _Black Pearl. _Sao Feng's crew had the upper hand for the moment, but it appeared that some sort of negotiation was going on. Groves frowned slightly, wondering if Beckett knew what was going on over there, or if maybe it was all under his control.

Peck stepped up next to Groves at the railing. "Which of them is on our side?" Peck asked, also looking out at the pirates.

"Which side is that?" Groves replied, throwing a glance over at the other lieutenant. "I don't think they're for Beckett, if that's what you mean."

"They don't look like they're getting along."

"No they don't. If they're our saviors, we're going to need a miracle."

"Canon!" Peck cried, and shoved Groves to the deck as the _Black Pearl_ fired on the _Endeavour._

The ship rocked with the impact, but then Groves quickly righted himself with the help of the railing and looked out towards the source of the attack. Sao Feng's ship was sailing away and the men on the deck of the _Black Pearl_ seemed to be suddenly caught up in some hurried activity. Groves frowned. "What the - " Then he was interrupted by a shout from behind him. "Oh, what now?" Groves turned around and saw Jack Sparrow scurrying out to the bow of the _Endeavour_, pursued by no one who was in any position to catch him.

"It's Sparrow!" Peck shouted, pointing.

Groves ran up the nearest set of stairs just in time to see Lord Beckett stand dumbfounded as Sparrow used a canon to propel himself into the air, away from the _Endeavour_, and onto the deck of the _Black Pearl_, just as the pirate ship began to sail away. Groves was mildly amazed that the pirate's stunt had actually worked. Sparrow sat on the railing of his own ship and waved a mocking salute back towards the officers on the deck of the _Endeavour.__  
_

Groves stepped up to Beckett's side.

"How soon can we set sail?" Beckett asked, without acknowledging the lieutenant's presence.

Groves was about to reply when he heard a cracking sound behind him, so loud that he turned around to look. The main mast of the _Endeavour_ slowly yielded to the damage done to it by the pirates' cannonballs, tipping sideways until it crashed to the deck of the ship, completely useless. The entire situation was just impossible, Groves thought, so impossible that it was almost laughable, but he managed to control himself. Instead he glanced back out towards the disappearing pirate ship, thinking that Jack Sparrow had once again proven that he must be either the cleverest, or the luckiest, pirate in the world. "Do you think he plans it all out?" Groves commented. "Or just makes it up as he goes along?"

Lord Beckett's sharp glare reproached the lieutenant for the admiration in his voice, and Groves quickly ducked away before Beckett had a chance to ask him what he meant by speaking of a pirate with any words that weren't cold and condemning. As he hurried from Beckett's presence, Groves was alarmed to realize that in that moment he felt more admiration for a common pirate than he did for the man in uniform who commanded the flagship _Endeavour._

* * *

The _Endeavour_, as soon as she was able, set off after the _Black Pearl_, leaving Sao Feng's ship for the _Dutchman. _Groves went to bed in his cabin sometime after midnight, but woke up before dawn with an upset stomach. He lay in his bunk and tried to go back to sleep, but for some reason the rocking of the ship made him toss and turn, as if the waves themselves were restless. Groves finally gave up on sleep as the weak morning light began to shine into the cabin. He wiped the clammy sweat off his face and went up onto the deck, hoping that the fresh air might clear his head and settle his stomach.

Groves went to the railing and looked out over the water, towards the horizon, to where the _Black Pearl_ would supposedly appear soon. The waves looked anxious as they quivered and crinkled the ocean's surface. Somehow, seeing the waves made the restless churning sensation even worse. Groves sat down on a crate, feeling ill, and trying to remember the last time he'd been seasick.

"Lieutenant Groves!" Peck's voice called, sounding much too cheerful. Groves glanced up and saw the other lieutenant coming towards him from across the deck. "I didn't expect to see you until a bit later, but since you're here, how about joining me for breakfast?"

Groves shook his head.

Peck stopped in front of Groves and frowned. "You look dreadful."

"The sea isn't agreeing with me this morning." Groves stood up and faced out to sea again. He wanted to escape Peck's scrutinizing gaze, especially since his stomach was threatening to release its contents. "There's something not right in the waves. I can feel it."

"Were you drinking?" Peck spoke with an audible frown.

Groves shot the other man a glare. "No," he said. "But there's something different about the ocean this morning." Something dark, sinister, and nauseating. But Groves didn't say that. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache begin to settle there. "I'm not feeling well," he said, hoping Peck would accept that as an explanation for his behavior. "Perhaps I'm overtired."

"You have seemed a bit overwrought," Peck suggested.

Groves nodded and faced Peck. "I hope you'll excuse me this morning," he said. "I think I just need to lie down for a few hours."

"Should I send the doctor for you?"

"No, don't. It's nothing. Just exhaustion, like you said, and a bit of seasickness. I only need a few hours of quiet."

Groves went to his cabin and lay down. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with the waves. It was like they each had their own rhythm, and were each fighting for dominance, rather than rolling together in a gentle, soothing harmony. Groves clutched his stomach and faced the cabin wall. In all his years as a sailor, he had never known the sea to feel this way, so unpleasantly divided. It was as if the water itself knew of the turmoil being waged over its ownership. It was also as if the water knew something the warring parties didn't. Crazy, of course, Groves knew, and likely his mind's wild fantasies could be attributed to some distraction brought on by the sick feeling in his stomach. He tried to ignore it all, and begged his tired body for rest. But even as he slept, Groves knew the chaotic water lashed out in warning.

* * *

Sorry for the long hiatus! It was a really busy summer. Awesome, but busy, and over too quickly. Anyway, here's the next chapter. Leave me a review and let me know you're still out there!


	20. Messages from the Sea

**Messages from the Sea**

The next morning, Groves immediately noticed columns of seagulls circling what looked like debris in the water ahead of the _Endeavour_. He only had to frown out at the birds before another lieutenant stepped in to explain their presence. A "breadcrumb" trail, Lieutenant Gregson explained. Bodies tied to barrels, designed to lead Lord Beckett to where the pirates were gathering.

Groves still frowned. "How do you know?"

"There was a message," Gregson replied, indignant at being challenged. "In a bottle, a cloth with our insignia. These are meant for us. Lord Beckett is confident they'll lead us to the pirates."

"All right then," Groves conceded. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

Gregson walked away, but Groves stared out at the barrels for a moment longer, wondering who would think up such a thing, and who would want to lead Beckett to the gathering of pirates. The _Endeavour_ was coming up on what looked like the end of the trail, but beyond that, there was nothing but open ocean. There were no other ships in sight, and no land where the pirates might be preparing a fortress. Either the trail's creator had run out of bodies, or there never was any trail to begin with.

Then one of the bodies moved.

Groves went to the railing and stared down at it. The body of a man was draped over the barrel, just like all the other beacons, but as Groves watched, the man turned his head and looked up at the ship. The man raised an arm to wave a signal, but lost his grip on the barrel and slipped under the water.

"Man overboard!" Groves shouted, then stood back while the sailors rushed to rescue the unfortunate man.

As he watched, Lieutenant Peck joined him. "So this one's alive," Peck commented, watching as the sopping man was helped onto the deck. "I hope the others weren't." He paused, and grimaced at his own choice of words. "That is, I mean, I hope we didn't overlook someone in need of rescue."

"How many were there?" Groves asked, trying to ignore the other lieutenant's concern, though it was legitimate.

"I lost count," Peck replied. "A steady trail since noon yesterday."

Groves nodded, then looked over at Peck. "Speaking of yesterday, I want to apologize - "

"You're not crazy," Peck interrupted, facing him. "At first I thought you were rambling, and I nearly sent the doctor to you, but what you said about the sea... I can feel it too."

Groves frowned slightly. "You haven't been ill, have you?"

"No, but I don't blame you. The waves aren't right."

Groves glanced down at the deck for a moment. Though he was feeling better, he thought the sea's rhythm still had not returned to normal. The waves were restless and divided against each other. The air was tense and anxious.

To distract himself, Groves looked over at the man who had arrived on the barrel. Something about the man was familiar, and when Groves crossed the deck he found Will Turner, the blacksmith Elizabeth Swann had intended to marry. Turner sat on a crate, slightly pale and shaking from the cold and wet, and clutching a blanket around his shoulders.

"Mr. Turner," Groves said.

Turner looked up at him. "Lieutenant," he replied, and struggled to his feet. "Is Cutler Beckett on this ship?"

"Yes, this is the _HMS Endeavour_. Lord Beckett - "

"I need to speak with him."

Groves forced himself not to frown at the earnest request. "I'm sure he'll be very interested to speak with you, too," he said, wondering for himself how the man had ended up floating on a barrel as the only living member of such a morbid breadcrumb trail.

"It's important," Turner insisted.

"You floated on a barrel from God-knows-where, so that does imply some level of urgency," Groves said. He studied the blacksmith a moment longer. "I'll inform Lord Beckett that you're here. Meanwhile, you look like you could use a hot meal."

Turner hesitated, torn between impatience to complete his mission, and the lure of something warm to eat. Finally he sighed slightly, as if in resignation. "Thank you, Sir," he said, then he let Lieutenant Peck lead him down to the galley.

Groves went to Beckett's cabin and found the door open. The man himself stood at the opposite window, staring out over the water with his hands folded neatly behind his back. Groves glanced around to make sure Beckett wasn't alone, then stepped inside. "Lord Beckett," he said, "I hope I'm not interrupting, but - "

"Ah, Lieutenant Groves," Beckett said, identifying the lieutenant before turning around. When he did turn around, he faced Groves with a tiny smile that conveyed no warmth. "You're feeling better."

"Yes," Groves replied slowly, caught off-guard and slightly unnerved by Beckett's gaze. "I was overtired, I think. Just needed a short rest."

Beckett studied him a moment longer. "Good to have you back, Lieutenant," he said, then turned smoothly and faced out the window again. "What is it you came to tell me?"

"We've picked up a man," Groves said. "William Turner."

At the mention of the blacksmith's name, Beckett turned his head slightly and listened with interest.

"He was clinging to one of the barrels we've been following," Groves continued. "He says he needs to speak with you."

"Most interesting." Beckett stared out the window, and remained a statue for a long moment. When he turned around again, the aloof smile had returned, replacing any traces of interest in the lieutenant's report. "Thank you, Lieutenant. You may bring him."

Groves obeyed. Turner disappeared into Beckett's cabin, the doors closed, and the guards were posted to keep out any unwanted interruptions. The meeting didn't last long. It was mere minutes before Beckett emerged, with a sort of impatient zeal in his eyes. "Summon the _Dutchman,_" he said, with a calmness that was eerily contrary to the fire in his eyes. "Mr. Turner and I have business with her captain."

* * *

I thought it was odd in the movie that Groves wasn't there when they found the barrels and that it was some random guy do it instead, so I've kind of explained that. Hope you're still reading - the next updates should come faster because I've got quite a bit of the ending written already!


	21. Madness

**Madness**

Davy Jones had been summoned to meet with Lord Beckett. The _Dutchman's_ Captain stormed across the deck of the _Endeavour, _glaring murderously at everyone who looked his way. Groves clenched his teeth and cringed inwardly as the fish-like eyes faced him coldly.

"Where is Cutler Beckett?" Jones demanded.

"Right this way," Groves said, then turned and quickly led Jones down to Beckett's private dining room. Beckett was already inside, serving tea for himself and Will Turner, and waiting for Jones with exaggerated patience.

Jones stomped into the room. "I cannot be summoned like some mongrel pup!" he declared.

"Apparently you can," Beckett replied.

"I do not take orders from the likes of you! If not for your precious Mr. Mercer I'd be the captain of my own ship."

Groves had turned to walk away, but paused near the wall outside the doorway as he overheard the conversation from inside the room.

"What of the Admiral?" Beckett asked. Norrington was to be in command of the _Dutchman__, _not Mercer.

"Admiral Norrington is dead," Jones spat. "I killed him myself."

Groves froze mid-step, feeling his chest turn to ice, hoping desperately that he had heard wrong.

"Too bad," Beckett replied. "He was valuable."

Groves suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe. A slow, cold dullness saturated his mind as the weight of Jones' words settled in. Groves tried not to believe it, but why would Jones say the Admiral was dead if he wasn't?

"God, no," Groves said. Because he'd always thought that he, Norrington, and Gillette would be together if any or all of them ever fell to evil forces.

The voices inside Beckett's dining room continued, but Groves couldn't hear what they were saying. The voices sounded like dull thumps coming from the other side of a frozen, impenetrable wall. Beckett. Groves felt his hands start to tremble, either with grief or from the sudden anger that nearly overwhelmed him when he thought of Lord Beckett's reaction to the news of Norrington's death. He hadn't been surprised, disappointed, or even pleased. He had simply been informed. He dismissed the death - the murder - of his "valuable" officer as a mere annoyance.

Groves forced himself to take a deep breath, slowly savoring the air that brought him back to reality. Footsteps from inside the room were coming towards the hallway, and Groves turned and left swiftly, refusing to encounter either Jones or Beckett, and feeling that he wouldn't have anything pleasant to say to Turner, either.

Lieutenant Peck met him at the end of the corridor. "Everything all right?" Peck asked.

"No," Groves said. "Everything is not all right. Nothing's all right."

"Did something happen?"

"Norrington's dead. Jones killed him."

"Norrington?" Peck blurted, surprised. "Why?"

"I don't know. Beckett certainly didn't give a damn, so Jones didn't elaborate." Groves moved past the other man. "I need a drink," he said. "Dear God, I need a drink." He went to his own cabin, vaguely aware that Peck followed him, and went straight to the bottle of brandy he kept on his small desk. He stared at the bottle for a moment, tempted to drink straight from it, the whole bottle, to drink until he couldn't tell the sky from the sea. But he just filled a glass, emptied it in one swallow, then glanced over at Peck standing awkwardly in the doorway. "If you're joining me, help yourself."

"No," Peck said. "I just didn't want to leave you alone."

Groves refilled the glass. "I'm fine," he said. "It's the world that's gone mad." He drained the glass again, then tossed it carelessly to the desk. It landed on its side and rolled off the edge of the desk, then hit the floor and smashed. Groves looked down at the broken glass for a moment, then cursed and kicked the desk chair as he turned towards the back of the cabin. He covered his face and just stood still for a long moment, trying to make sense of the anger in his head.

Davy Jones had killed Norrington. That's what Jones did. He either killed people, or made their lives a living hell. Jones was nothing but a heartless tyrant. He owed no loyalty to the Admiral, so he should have no reason to take anything but satisfaction from having killed him. But surely Beckett couldn't consent to the Admiral's murder. He certainly hadn't ordered it, as he had the Governor's. Even then, it would have been clear that Beckett was only using Norrington to advance his own power. But the cool, emotionless dismissal proved that Beckett had never cared one way or the other whether his "valuable" officer lived or died or turned pirate or...

"Think of your sister," Peck said, from the doorway.

Emma. Gregory. And their unborn child. Groves felt the dark thoughts fade, and he dropped his hands. The anger retreated, hiding itself somewhere in his mind behind the thoughts of his sister and her family. Groves suddenly felt tired, drained, and a bit woozy from the brandy.

"You've got someone to fight for."

Groves turned around, facing Peck again. "I've got someone who cares whether or not I'm killed."

"That too."

Groves sighed and shook his head in frustration. "I won't say any more. For their sake." He took the bottle of brandy from his desk and gave it to Lieutenant Peck. "You'd better keep this. The last thing I need is to be staggering drunk tomorrow, and I will be if I keep it."

Peck took the bottle and nodded. "Just think of Emma," he said. "And I'll be thinking of my Mary and our little one."

"I lost control," Groves admitted. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too. I know Admiral Norrington was your friend."

Groves shook his head. "No," he said. "_James_ Norrington was my friend. I'm not sure I ever knew who _Admiral_ Norrington was."

* * *

As always, reviews are much appreciated! Thanks to all of you who keep reading! And yes, I know it wasn't Davy Jones who killed Norrington... I warned you in my summary I was taking a few liberties with the plot.


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